Daddy's Sweet Little Whore
by jewelle32
Summary: Set before TWD when Daryl is 16 and Merle is 24. Slightly AU and Malami inspired me with some ideas. Merle comes home unexpectedly to witness something he can't believe is really happening. How will he react? Loosely based on my other story – Daryl's Story but some details are different. Contains graphic child abuse – (sexual) - please don't read if you are sensitive to this.
1. Chapter 1

**Daddy's Sweet Little Whore**

**Chapter 1**

**Loosely based on ****my other story – **_**Daryl's Story **_**but some details are different. **

**Contains graphic child abuse – (sexual) of all kinds - please don't read if you are sensitive to this. **

i.

I sighed as I came home from school – my ribs hurting like a bitch where he'd kicked me black and blue last night on the floor. For apparently looking at him sideways. I slumped into the kitchen, holding my hand to my side and dumped my school bag on the kitchen table. What was the fucking point of school anyway? Trigonometry wasn't ever going to save me.

Praying that he was out round Matt's -getting boozed up and high on crystal. Hoping he'd pass out and stay there overnight.

The house was quiet – seemed like he was out. I was lucky.

I glared at the several empty beer cans on the table. Probably _his_ – he started drinking as soon as he got up whenever the hell that was.

'Merle?' I called out and hated the quavering timbre to my voice 'cos of course I was hoping _he _was at home. 'Cos I always felt that little bit safer when my big brother was around – knew that Dad wouldn't go too far in front of him.

Then I heard his laugh. _Shit_ – should have remembered that Merle had changed shifts at the car garage. No doubt Dad hadn't forgotten – he was always asking my brother about his work and his shift pattern but not because he cared.

_I knew the real reason_.

''Come here, son. Miss me?'' Suddenly Dad was standing in front of me – complete with a can in hand. Filthy string vest and boxers. Nothing on his feet. I could smell him from here – he rarely bothered to shower these days and see his 3 day beard on his face.

I calculated how far I could run out of the front door before he caught me. Get to the woods – where I was _safe_.

He sniggered – reading my mind as he shifted to block my way.

_No chance_. Even though I was 16 – I grew slow – still had skinny arms and a small frame. No match against his bulk.

'Fuck off.' I snarled at him, lashing out first. Knowing what he wanted. Could see it in his eyes. _What _he always wanted from me these days when he wasn't beating the shit out of me.

I was rewarded by him striding the few feet that separated us to cuff me. I cowered to the ground automatically, like I always did – my arms raised to instinctively protect my head.

'The fuck ya say to me?' He slurred. But the additional blows I was expecting never came.

I didn't answer.

But the slur gave me hope – maybe he wouldn't be able to do it. Maybe he'd pass out beforehand. It had happened a few times before.

The he reached down to stroke my hair. And when I was little – I would have leaned into his hand but his touch now made my skin crawl. It felt like there were roaches crawling all over my scalp and I flinched and cringed away. Trying in vain to get away from his hand.

_From his disgusting touch_.

'Come here, boy. ' He said tenderly, then helped me up. Dragging me to his bedroom by one arm.

'Ya going to be a good boy, ain't ya? To ya old Dad?' He almost pleaded.

'Fuck you, ya sick fuck.' I couldn't help antagonising him because his gentle father act was creeping me out more than the usual brutality ever would.

Violence was simply more easy to deal with.

'Get in there.' He growled as he roughly pushed me into the room.

_Merle!_ I screamed with my mind. Strange to say – sometimes he came running. Like he knew I was in trouble.

'Now, now.' He said to me, his eyes roving greedily all over my body. 'Take ya clothes off.' He ordered while undoing his belt.

I flinched when he always did that – even though I knew he was going to use it on me today.

_No – he had something else in mind._

'No!' I screamed at him. My own rage taking over.

'If ya don't...it's gonna be bad. I ain't gonna be gentle.'

I almost laughed in his face. _When had he ever been gentle?_

_'_Well, if ya won't...I'll jus' have to, won't I?' He said as he shoved me onto the bed. Started pulling off my T-shirt and yanking off my jeans. His hands all over me – touching me _everywhere_ until I wanted to throw up. Trying to arouse me – wriggling his fingers inside me – touching me _down there_ even. But I swallowed the bile back down – it would not do good to provoke him further by puking all over the new bedroom carpet.

Strangely, while this was happening – all I could remember was when I was small and he was Nice Daddy – when he'd innocently undress me to give me a bath. Or undo my shoelaces before pulling off my shoes when he tucked me in at night with a kiss on the forehead.

Was it so different?

When had everything gone to shit? Why?

I fought, I struggled- I promise you, I did not go quietly but he was far too strong for me as we wrestled. But I was making it hard for him to undress me – all the time I was praying that just this once Merle would come home unexpectedly and catch us and put a stop to this sick shit once and for all.

Because I couldn't tell him – couldn't put it into words what was happening to me nearly every day – sometimes nights too.

He had to _see_. He had to know. Could he really be so blind?

But he knew something was wrong – looked at me with growing concern but I brushed off his questions. That was when he was home of course and relatively sober which didn't happen very often.

'No!' I screamed, I yelled until he punched me in the face several times. Then several times more right on top of my already bruised ribs and I couldn't help screaming in pain when he did that.

To subdue me. No doubt worried about the neighbours hearing me. Not that they would do anything.

Then he pulled off my trousers and my underwear while I just lay there. I drew in my knees to my chest and curled up into a ball.

He just laughed.

My face was throbbing and so was my side – I hoped that my bruised ribs hadn't been upgraded into broken ones. Or that he hadn't given me internal injuries. And I dreaded to see what I looked like. More funny looks the next time I went out. Everybody knew that he beat the shit out of me but I don't think they knew about the other stuff he did to me.

It was just pain and I was used to it. Knew how to deal with it – ignore it and push it one side.

'Now, now.' He leered at me as his pinned me to the bed by my thin arms.

I struggled but his grip on me was made of steel.

Then he took the belt and I couldn't help cringing like I always did when he did that. He sneered with contempt at me.

'I gonna teach ya a lesson, boy. About respect.'

But he didn't do what I expected him to – he took the belt and wrapped it tight around my neck.

Wha...' I gasped. He'd never done this before.

'From now on, ya do somethin' I don't like, ya get this!' He whispered and pulled the belt so tight that I couldn't breathe. Let me choke for a few seconds – it felt like minutes – until my vision started to grey.

Message was loud and clear. He'd fuckin' kill me if I didn't submit and please him besides.

He turned me over then onto my stomach and got out the lubricant jelly he kept in his bedside table. Rubbed it all over his erect cock – already moaning as he did so. I didn't turn my head round – didn't want to look but I could hear clearly what he was doing.

Probably used it on himself before he started using me I thought wryly to myself.

'I think we'll skip the warm-up and all.' He announced. He meant when he raped my mouth and made me suck him until he came. His hand fisting my hair and barely letting me breathe. Never let me spit – always made me swallow his vile fluid that always made me want to puke it right up again. Or he did the same to me until I orgasmed despite my shame and humiliation. 'Cos the sick bastard was always able to make me come. Just to show me that he was in complete control of my body and I wasn't.

'Just go straight to the main act, huh son?' He pressed his stiff dick against my backside but without penetrating me yet. Suggested it like he was offering me a choice while yanking on the belt around my neck like I was a dog. I didn't have enough breath to answer but he took it as a yes, anyway.

'God, ya so tight and hot.' He groaned in anticipation. 'Now, ya be a good hot little bitch for Daddy and ya won't get hurt. I'll even let ya breathe, how that do ya?'

'Enough with the foreplay.' I sneered at him. Knowing the earlier he got started, the earlier it would be over. Looking at my blood from the head wounds that were already on the sheets. 'Get on with it already.'

Knowing that there would be more blood to come.

'Just as ya like.' He sniggered and pushed into me.

Started thrusting almost immediately. I couldn't help myself whimpering like I always did when my father raped me but it only excited me more.

'That's it, ya little slut. Ya like it, don't ya?'

'No!' I screamed as he started to really pound away at me – going deeper and deeper. My panic growing as I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. And the pain from my ribs from the movement.

'Please Daddy stop!' I begged. That earned me a cuff round the head. I was calling him by the childish name we used to when were smaller. 'Ya hurtin' me!'

'Shut up, ya little cocktease.' He panted between groans of ecstasy. 'Ya wanted this – I know ya did – don't play coy with me - ya told me to do it!' He hissed in my ear then tightened the belt around my neck. My chest hitched uselessly in and out because I couldn't get a breath. Panic made me struggle even more – I really thought he was going to kill me but just as everything around me was starting to go dark, he loosened it again.

'Just for telling me to stop, I'm gonna punish ya some more, ya dirty little whore.' He breathed throatily between moans. 'Daddy's sweet little whore.' He moaned in my ear.

Then he drew back and pushed himself even more viciously deeper inside me.

Riding me. Tightening and loosening the belt at the same time like I was a horse and he was holding my reins.

And all the time my ribs throbbed from the pounding motions but that was nothing compared to pain inside.

''Cos dirty little boys like ya don't get to say _no_. This is ya punishment for being _bad_. For killin' ya Mama.

Despite myself I was crying, maybe even let out a few sobs with the tears running down my cheeks now when he mentioned her. And I couldn't stop them. Because what would she think if she could see us now? And I still missed her desperately.

He drew back and stopped momentarily. Turned me over and gently wiped away my tears with the corner of the sheet. And I felt too weak to struggle – to even cringe away. Worse - I felt ashamed that I let him see me cry when I promised myself I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Ever!

'Cos Dixons don't cry – never.

'Ah... ya know ya did, didn't ya? Ya bought her the rat's piss and the smokes that caused her to pass out and burn herself to death.' He crooned at me before roughly flipping me over and starting all over again. 'Now ya gonna get punished for it, ya bad little boy.'

He doubled the tempo of his thrusts but at least he wasn't going so deep like before. He held the end of the belt to control me.

'Remember when I whipped ya?

I said nothing because he'd twist anything I did say.

'Ya were 10. So little and so scared. Whimperin' and pleadin' like a little whore – just like now.'

'Fuck you. No, I didn't.' I screamed at him as I remembered that day. How could I ever forget? Besides I had the scars to remind me. He tightened on the belt in response- just enough to make it hard for me to breathe.

'Ya nothin', always were nothin' and ya never, ever gonna be nothin'. I own ya now.'

'No! Ya on the one that's fuckin' nothin'!' I screamed back at him in rage but I heard the whimper in my voice soon afterwards as he started to thrust further inside me again.

'Ain't no one ever gonna want ya after what I've done to ya. Marked ya for my own. Even when I'm long dead and gone – you'll always belong to me. 'Cos you'll always remember this as long as ya live.'

He considerately loosened the halter around my neck when I began to sob for real. Couldn't help it as he continued his vicious tirade while forcing himself deeper and deeper into me. Really hurting me.

'Merle never cried.' He taunted me. 'Always took his punishments like a Dixon.'

Despite my pain and terror I turned my head round to stare at him. 'Ya did this to him too?' I cried.

He gave a small, cruel smile. 'You'll have to ask him. But ya won't, will ya, son? Ya don't want anyone to know about our special game. Especially not ya big brother. He'd hate ya forever.'

'That ain't true! He'd _hate _ya!' I yelled back.

When was he going to be finished? It felt like he'd been at me for hours.

ii.

Merle came back into the kitchen – banged his toolbox onto the kitchen table. Immediately went to the fridge looking for some cool beer to calm himself down. He was furious. He'd just been fired from the fourth job in a row just because they found some coke in his locker. For fuck's sake! He bet it was that slimeball Martinez who set him up just because he banged his girlfriend once. And she was nothing to look at - was a junkie whore who wasn't even that good in the sack.

His mind chewed over the images of exactly how he was going to make the sneering Martinez pay for the loss of his job. Didn't look like another one would come along so quickly now that the recession was in full swing.

And there wasn't any beer either! Probably the old man had drunk them all even though Merle had been the one to buy them. Stomping upstairs in a foul mood he went to his bedroom but stopped as he heard the noises coming from their father's room next door. Thumping noises and groans and whimpers.

'Just for telling me to stop, I'm gonna punish ya some more, ya dirty little whore...Daddy's sweet little whore.' He heard his father say through the thin walls. Did he have one of his broads in there – who obviously liked it rough and it sounded _very kinky_. He chuckled to himself dirtily as he cupped his ear to the wall. God – he was getting turned on by his father talking dirty to the woman even though he knew he shouldn't be listening.

Then he straightened up in shock at the next thing he heard.

''Cos dirty little boys like ya don't get to say _no_. This is ya punishment for being _bad_. For killin' ya Mama.'

'_Dirty little boys like you_? _Killing your Mama?_' _What the fuck?_ Then Merle heard boyish sobs – Daryl's? _H__is baby brother was in there__? Daryl was crying? He'd raised him better than that. 'Cos Dixons never cried. _Daryl hadn't - not since he was five years old. He must be mistaken. Couldn't be his baby brother – some other boy - besides their Daddy wasn't _gay –_ he fucking hated those perverted assfuckers.

'Ah... ya know ya did, didn't ya? Ya bought her the rat's piss and the smokes that caused her to pass out and burn herself to death. Now ya gonna get punished for it, ya bad little boy.' Merle heard his father's voice croon before he started making sex noises shortly again afterwards.

All groans and swinish grunts.

His father could only be talking about their Mama who died in the fire.

'Remember when I whipped ya? Ya were 10. So little and so scared. Whimperin' and pleadin' like a little whore – just like now.'

Heard his brother say 'Fuck you!' defiantly. 'No, I didn't!'

'Ya nothin', always were nothin' and ya never, ever gonna be nothin'. I own ya now.'

'No! Ya the one's that fuckin' nothin'!' Daryl fought back but then Merle heard his teenage brother start to whimper in that irritating way of his that used to drive Merle nuts. But now those sounds made his heart lurch painfully in his chest so much that it physically hurt. And he'd tried to make him grow out of it. But what the hell was going on?

'Ain't no one ever gonna want ya after what I've done to ya. Marked ya for my own. Even when I'm long dead and gone – you'll always belong to me. You'll always remember this as long as ya live.'

He could barely believe what he was hearing. Must be some kind of sick joke right? Must be his imagination? Or did he fall asleep and was having a nightmare?

'Merle_ never_ cried.' He heard his father taunt his sobbing brother. 'Always took his punishments like a Dixon.'

In between the thumps and obscene groans of pleasure.

_Right that was it._ Merle decided to go and see for himself. Hoping that it was all just a product of his sick and twisted mind. Hoping that he'd go in there and find his father fucking some broad. Or better- no-one there at all. Hoping that he was on the worst trip of his life but he didn't recall taking anything recently. Had been trying to clean up, find a job and save some money actually. Get him and Daryl out of this shithole and away from their old man for good. Still, he had the presence of mind to take his gun with him – fully loaded that he used for self- protection (it was necessary in their neighbourhood) and his hunting knife. Just in case.

Went next door and without warning burst open the door. Saw something that would be burnt in his memory until the day he died. Every fucking filthy, disgusting detail. And the image would be there waiting for him before he fell asleep every night.

Daryl _crying_ and their father was on top of him. Riding him – his belt tied around his younger brother's throat like a dog collar– like a horse's halter with the end in their father's hand.

The scars visible on his back and nasty blue- black bruises on his side.

'Ya did this to him too?' Daryl turned round to ask their father between sobs. Still managing to sound horrified and concerned for _him_. Then Merle saw his beaten face and he silently vowed vengeance for every bruise on his baby brother's body – in addition to the unbelievable sick scene before him.

'You'll have to ask him. But ya won't, will ya, son? Ya don't want anyone to know about our _special game_. Especially not ya big brother. He'd hate ya forever.'

'That ain't true! He'd _hate _ya!' Daryl yelled back.

Then their father sensed his presence and finally saw him in the doorway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

i

Daryl

My brother looked at the scene before him with mingled rage and revulsion on his face as he trained the gun on our father. And I cringed back – even trying to hide behind my father who pulled out of me immediately and dropped the end of the belt when he saw him.

Because I'd wanted him to find us but not find us if you know what I mean.

I was ashamed and embarrassed.

Strangely, _I_ felt guilty.

Merle looked at our father who had thankfully withdrawn and got off me. Trying to get his breath back. Sheepishly covered his swollen and dripping penis by wrapping a towel round his waist that lay on a nearby chair while Merle sneered at him with revulsion and disdain. Still hadn't managed to say anything.

Dad held up his hands in surrender.

I was lying there naked with my skinny ass bare up for my older brother to see so I covered myself with the coverlet. Saw more blood on the sheets.

My father had been naked also.

Not that it was a big deal.

'Take that fuckin' thing off from around his neck, ya sick motherfucker.' Merle spoke in a calm, detached voice. 'No – ya not even _that _– ya worse.' But anyone who knew him well – like me – knew this was when he was at most dangerous. Most enraged. I knew that he was fully capable of killing our father for what he saw him doing to me. Dad leaned over me to obey but when Merle saw how I cringed away from him and couldn't help the whimpers that escaped me, he changed his mind.

'No, on second thoughts, I'll do it. 'Cos I don't want ya touchin' him. _Ever again_. In fact - get the fuck away from him. _Now_._' _He ordered and Dad didn't hesitate to obey. 'It's not what ya think, son.' He gabbled, hand raised in appeal. 'It's a game... we were just pretendin'.

But his lies only enraged my older brother more. 'Don't fuckin' lie to me. I heard

the things ya called him – 'ya sweet little whore', 'a dirty little boy who needs to be fucked in punishment for killing his Mama.''' He raged. 'Besides, I jus' saw ya.' Then he just grabbed a pillow to muffle the sound - we didn't want any one calling 911 – not that there was any real chance of that in our neighbourhood - and shot my father in the knee-cap to immobilise him. And Dad fell to the ground, clutching his knee. 'Ya fuckin' bastard' he moaned in agony. 'Ya ungrateful little shits.'

My eyes widened in shock.

'Shut up. That's just for starters. Ain't nothin' compared to what I'm gonna do to ya, ya sick bag of shit.' Merle told him coldly and kicked him viciously – deliberately just where he'd shot him as our father howled in pain. 'Can dish it out but can't take it, ya piece of baby-rapin' shit.'

He strode over to me and when he saw me his eyes were full of some emotion I didn't recognise. Like he was weighing me up somehow and I couldn't help recoiling from him. I didn't know what he was going to do because was some of that rage I saw in his eyes meant for me? Did he hate me like Dad said he would? Did he think I wanted this? I led Dad on somehow?

Was he disgusted with me?

His face softened, especially when he saw how badly beaten up I was. 'Sh...sh. It's me, Merle. I ain't gonna hurt ya, ya know that.' He whispered to me as he gently undid the belt from around my neck. The buckle had dug in to my nape and it was sore – I rubbed it absent-mindedly. My whole neck was sore from the belt. It hurt to swallow. 'Was it the first time he's done this to ya?' He asked.

I shook my head. Looked down at the bed in shame. 'Ain't the first. Done it loads of times.' I glared pitilessly at our father – moaning now for a very different reason as he clutched his bloody knee to him.

Merle put his hand on my shoulder and looked away then and I couldn't read his eyes. 'Here.' He said gruffly as he grabbed a clean bath towel from the drawer and threw it to me. 'Have a shower, clean yourself up and put your clothes back on.'

I looked at our father – still groaning in pain, oblivious to our conversation. 'Wha...what ya gonna do to him?' I pointed down at him.

My brother looked at me in disbelief. 'Why do ya _care_?' He asked incredulously. 'After what the sick fuck was doin' to ya...?'

'Merle – he's still our father!' Dad looked up at me, face drawn and white from pain and then at my brother, nodding eagerly. 'He's right. Ya don't wanna be like me, do ya, Merle? Ya wanna be the better man, right?'

'I said SHUT THE FUCK UP'! Ya don't deserve to LIVE let alone _TALK_!' Merle yelled at him and then pistol-whipped our father who immediately slumped to the floor, unconscious.

'Now, that's better.' Merle said with relief. 'I need to think.'

'Look, we can phone the police – tell them what he was doin' to me...'

He looked at me with exasperation at my naivety. _Dixons don't grass or have any legitimate dealings with the police_. 'Ya know what the people around here are like. The cops included. They won't do nothin'. And do ya want to have everybody know what he...did? You'll be saddled with that for the rest of ya life, ya know that boy?'

I looked at him – I didn't know what expression was on my face. But he frowned. Softened his tone. 'None of the shit he did to ya is ya fault, ya know that but do ya really want people to know? If they do anythin' – they'll take ya away to be adopted or put ya in a foster home. They'll put ya in therapy for years – make ya go over and over again all the things he did to ya.'

I shuddered. I didn't never want to talk about that shit ever again – particularly not with a stranger. Just wanted to forget – pretend it never happened.

'They'll say ya damaged!' Merle concluded his final argument.

I trembled with indignation. _I wasn't damaged! Thought I'd coped pretty well – better than most would have done in the same circumstances. I was tough – I was a Dixon!_

Then I looked downcast at the floor – my gaze sliding over my unconscious father. Merle went over to him and started tying his hands behind him with the belt he'd used on me. Then he tied the ends to the leg of the bed.

'What will ya do?'

'I'lll make sure he never touches ya again, that's what I'm gonna do. No matter what ya hear – ya stay away until I tell ya to come back in. OK?'

Part of my mind knew what he had in mind but I shut that part down. Went to have a shower and clean myself up. My head was pounding from his savage blows, my ribs throbbing. But I blocked out the pain like I always did.

But no matter how much I scrubbed, I couldn't get the feeling of his hands and his tongue all over me – or his dick pumping inside me –or the pain – _especially that _- it was like he was still inside me. His filth when he spurted inside me. The taste of him in my mouth when he forced himself inside it, not caring that I choked or felt like I was suffocating.

And the fact that I was still bleeding into the shower and hurting back _there _seemed to confirm this. I wondered dully when it would stop.

_Marked ya for my own. Even when I'm long dead and gone – you'll always belong to me. You'll always remember this as long as ya live.'_

I could still feel him. Still feel _it_. Still felt his filth, his hands all over me, inside me.

Would I ever get rid of the feel of him?

_I own ya now._

These thoughts led to, without warning, my emotions hijacking my body as I started to shake uncontrollably, as I slid down the shower stall and began to sob. Letting the water run over me until it turned cold but not caring. Because I was feeling like no matter how long I stayed under it, I'd never be clean again.

_Snap out of it! Dixons don't cry!_

I heard Merle bang on the bathroom door. 'Ya OK, Daryl?'

'Yeah, fine.' I croaked, trying to muffle the pathetic, whimpering sounds coming out of me as best as I could.

I could tell he didn't believe me but he went away, didn't press me.

I must have been in the shower about 45 minutes after the water went cold – I didn't know when I finally got myself under control.

I dried myself off and warmed myself up. Put on my clean clothes. Looked at myself in the mirror.

Of course I looked like hell. My face was a swollen, bruised, battered mess and my throat was sore. It hurt to swallow. Had red marks on it from the belt and I hoped I wasn't going to scar from it. I didn't think so. Not to forget my ribs – I hoped that they were only cracked maybe and would heal by themselves.

Last thing I wanted was to have to go to hospital and answer their dumb, invasive questions. Them to find out everything he'd done to me because I was still a minor.

I looked drained and exhausted with purple rings under my eyes and the look in them was half-crazy.

ii.

I put a brave face on it – Merle said he would sort it and he would. He'd never let Dad hurt me ever again.

That was the last time he'd ever do that shit to me.

I should be happy, relieved but I wasn't. Especially when I heard the agonised screams and low groans coming from upstairs in our father's bedroom. I couldn't have heard anything from the bathroom downstairs. Or maybe I'd been too out of it to hear or I didn't want to hear.

I didn't know which as I stopped to listen in shock. I could hear the curious mixture of tears and rage in my brother's voice as he shouted, 'I'd hate him forever, would _I , _if I found out? No, he's right, I fuckin' hate _ya_!'

Followed by our father screaming high-pitched in agony.

'So, he's a dirty little boy, is he?... Ya sick, twisted fuck.'

Scream... Scream.

'So, he's ya sweet little whore, is he? And he killed Mama?'

Scream.

'Ya fuck ya own son? _He was fuckin' cryin_', _Dad! _How could ya?_'_

Scream. _Groan_. 'Please...I'm sorry...it'll never happen again...I'll stay away from him, I promise. I'll make it up to ya both... I'll do anythin'...Just don't do it again, _please_.' Dad was pleading with Merle – sounded like for his life. I raced upstairs as far as I could.

Merle was the one screaming now. 'Ain't nothin' ya can do to ever make _this _right.'

_What was Merle doing to our father? I had to stop it._

'Except one thing.' I heard him say tonelessly.

I ran and burst open the door. Walked in, specifically against Merle's instructions, just in time to see my brother shoot our father in the head using another pillow as a silencer.

Killing him instantly as the goose feathers fluttered to the ground for the second time that day.

'Merle...' I said. He spun round, his eyes full of _shame_? And anger. 'I thought I told ya to stay away until I finished.' He yelled at me. Deliberately moving to stand in front of our father's body so I couldn't see it, blocking my view.

But I'd already seen.

'Merle...' my voice quivered. 'What ya done?' I trembled.

'Ya weren't supposed to see this. Get out until I tell ya to come back.' He ordered me harshly.

I ignored him. 'Ya killed him, didn't ya? What did ya do to him before ya shot him?'

I'd seen the the blood stain spreading through the pristine white towel – where my father's crotch was.

Where his thing was that he used to hurt me.

'Wha...what did ya do, Merle? I thought we were jus' gonna up and leave...'

Then I saw the blood-stained knife on the dresser. I knew what Merle had done before he put Dad out of his misery. Because death must have seemed like a mercy after that kind of torture. If he didn't bleed from his gunshot wound first. Then I saw that Merle had made a tourniquet out of another sheet on his leg.

I shivered then at the cold calculation of my older brother who'd kept my father alive long enough just so that he could torture him.

Before killing him anyway.

'Merle!' I exclaimed in horror and he shrugged like he didn't care.

'Ya a big boy now, guess ya can take it.' He moved aside to show me all the shallow cuts and burns – probably from his lighter that were all over my father's body. Not forgetting the bruises from the vicious beating he'd given him. His head, his torso were black and blue. His face – beaten to a pulp – almost unrecognisable.Amazingly, he'd still been conscious when Merle killed him.

_How could I have not heard anything from the shower? Could I have stopped him?_

I started to cry again – not for myself and not for the Dad who'd done those sick things to me but for the Daddy our father used to be. The one that took us hunting and taught us how to read tracks and the spoor of wild animals. Who told us bedtimes stories about Indians and cowboys, who taught us baseball in the garden. Who built us the tree house that was still there - with his bare hands and a few planks of wood from a skip. Who would never ever hurt us – the most he'd done was yell occasionally. We'd been dirt poor but we'd been a normal loving family, once upon a time.

Because he hadn't always been a monster before he lost his job and couldn't get another. After that came more drinking and drugs after Mama went.

Fuck – it felt like I was crying more on this one day than I'd cried in the last ten years. I didn't care that my brother was there. _That Dixons never cry._

I was mourning all that I – we - had lost - as I slumped to the floor against the wall, pulling my knees up to my chest. Wrapping my arms round them. My innocence, my parents, my hope as I stared at my father's mutilated and bloody corpse – right in front of me.

Merle didn't say anything. Didn't tell me to _Toughen the fuck up_ or _Stop being a little sissy, Darlena_.

Didn't say he was sorry for doing what he'd done or for letting me see it either.

Then again, I didn't really expect him to. He just slid down beside me and without a word, put his arms around me. And I flinched because of my injured ribs but it didn't matter. He just held me as he pulled me away from the wall and round so that he was facing Dad's corpse instead of me. Then he started to rock me back and forth like I was a little baby again.

While our father stared at us accusingly from beyond the grave. Because I could still feel his lifeless eyes burning two holes into my back so I buried my bruised face -even though it hurt – because I needed the feeling of comfort and safety more - in my big brother's chest to hide away from Dad.

'Cos Merle never blamed me. Didn't hate me like our father said he would.

Only blamed Dad.

Taken revenge on him for me. The proof of his love for me.

He'd killed him for me. So that I would be safe.

Be free.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm just going to post most of what I've got – I'm still revising the rest of it. Anyway, here's Chapter 3 with some sweet Merle/Daryl love because I don't want this story to be all angsty pain and suffering with no hope. Also a face from the series turns up, throwing into question Merle's character because how different is he to his father, anyway?**

**Enjoy!**

i.

We were driving along, spinning as fast as we could to get away from _that _house.

Merle looked sideways at me with concern. 'Ya alright, Daryl?'

'Fine.' I slumped low in the seat. 'I hadn't slept well since we'd disposed of Dad's body because everytime I closed my eyes I saw _him_. Or specifically – what Merle had done to him.

We still had to wait a couple of days praying in the meantime that none of Daddy's drinking buddies would come looking for them.

We were lucky. They didn't. We would have just kept our heads down and pretended we weren't at home anyway. But this would have created suspicion 'cos everyone knew that Dixons didn't have no money – didn't go away anywhere so I didn't know if it was a good idea us running away - wouldn't it look suspicious immediately after Dad vanished? But Merle shrugged his shoulders. 'No-one gonna care about that worthless piece of shit, don't worry, little brother. Anyway ain't nobody gonna talk. They all know how he used to beat the shit out of us.' Merle himself disappeared from time to time without telling us where he went or what he was doing. But he always came back with wads of cash he used to take me out and buy me clothes and stuff. Like a decent meal

Merle had found some industrial acid from somewhere and we'd put him the bath and let it do its work. Then got rid of the icky bone fragments left – poured them into the septic tank out back to dissolve slowly. I'd nearly gagged when we'd done that.

And I'd never asked my brother how he knew about this stuff – getting rid of bodies and shit because I was dreading knowing the answer. I knew that he'd hung round with pretty questionable people in the past – even worked for them for a lot of money. And I didn't ever want to know what he'd done for them but right then, his knowledge came in very useful.

And I would be missed at school – probably nothing would happen. They were used to me being absent – happened a lot the times Dad beat the crap out of me when Merle wasn't around and I'd have to stay in bed, recovering. They knew but nobody gave a shit. We lived in a small hick hill village – weren't no Atlanta where they might actually give a shit about child abuse.

'Cos last thing we needed was the neighbours seeing us carry out a dead body in a dustbin liner. Although nobody talked to cops where we were from – it was best not to take chances.

No-one had rung 911 despite the screams and shouting. Where we were from, you kept you nose out of your neighbour's business and they extended to you the same courtesy.

But it wasn't every day that you murder your father. We were both new to this. Didn't know how this shit went down.

'I'm not sorry for what I did. Bastard deserved it. _Everything_.' Merle growled as his hands tensely clutched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. And I knew he was still furious with our father – regretting making his death so quick. While he looked straight ahead at the country road, not at me.

'I know.' I said. By _Everything - _Merle meant the part where he'd stabbed Dad between the legs – attacking that very body part he'd used to hurt me so badly - apart from the other forms of torture he'd subjected him to. I forgave him because I knew why he'd done it. He'd loved our father but he'd done it for me.

And if it had been the other way round – if I'd found my father doing _that_ to my little brother – or my_ sister_ - I can't say I blamed him because I would have probably done the same.

He ruffled my hair while I squirmed as a reward for my understanding. He knew that everything was all right between us again. 'Leave that shit out, Merle.' I protested irritably.

'Come here.' He urged my head slowly down onto his lap with one arm, careful of the bruises on my face. I pretended I didn't want to but I did.

I started to doze off as his hand started to drift through my hair – back and forth. Stroking me to sleep. It felt nice. _Safe _even, which was something I hadn't felt for a long time.

Nothing like Dad's creepy caresses that always made my skin crawl.

While he kept one hand on the steering wheel- driving with one hand - like he usually did. 'Cos he normally had a roll-up or a beer bottle in the other. And anyway, he could drive one-handed through these country back-lanes – hardly anyone passed through. No cops to pull us over and ask awkward questions.

We were going the long way round – hoping to avoid attention in case there was a police investigation later for our missing father. Hopefully, no one would miss him for a few days at least. He hadn't had many friends.

We got out at a service station. Where I checked myself.

Yep – I was still bleeding even after two days after it happened but the flow was slowing at last. I hadn't been that worried - it wasn't the longest by far I'd bled after one of Dad's 'special punishments'. I still felt icky and yucky though – the sticky blood was disgusting. With a sigh, I pushed another wad of tissues into my underwear. At least the pain inside me was fading.

My bruises too – slightly. Especially the red marks around my neck. And miraculously - it looked like my ribs were only bruised – they'd take a few days – maybe a week or two to heal, I knew from bitter experience. I'd taken Dad's drugs stash with me – I didn't know what the different pills of various colours and sizes were but Merle said that some shit would act like painkillers and help me sleep because every breath still hurt like a bitch. But I was worried about getting addicted to them so I tried to put up with the pain as long as possible before doses. Except I couldn't sleep with it so I took one or two Merle told me to take at night and I slept the whole night through.

But the cashier still looked at me funny when I went in to get the cheapest snacks I could find. Potato chips, Herschey bars – a couple of sandwiches - that kind of thing. _Dixons didn't do healthy_. Energy drinks for the road for whichever one of us was driving. We didn't know where we were going – were just going to keep driving south. And despite our lack of money. Didn't have money for a motel room – and soon we'd have to fill up the tank again.

But Merle insisted on beer and smokes.

Of course he did.

ii.

Andrea got in the back – not knowing if she was making a big mistake. The tall blonde guy – lean and muscular - he looked rough was about her age - looked dangerous but then he'd warned her about the dangerous neighbourhood at night. Or was that just a ploy to get her to trust him so that he could rape and murder her later?

She'd been walking in this village at the back of nowhere visiting an old school friend. She'd only been here a half a day and she was already bored out of her mind. She'd gone to a local bar – her friend didn't want to go, she had a bad cold and Andrea was more than a little tipsy. A couple of dirty, rough looking men had chatted her up – but she'd politely declined.

She'd expected to be able to get a taxi back to the train station to get her train – hadn't realised that there weren't any this late, this far out. And the station – even if she knew where it was – was far too away for her to walk to and she had already probably missed the last train until the morning.

_God – I hate this stupid hillybilly place! Where she'd felt people's aggressive stares on her all day long. And she could barely understand them sometimes – their accents were so thick. And they spoke this stupid drawling dialect..._

She was stumbling along the side of the road. She'd kicked off her shoes – they were pinching her feet so she was carrying them in her hands. Didn't matter - it was a hot summer's night in Georgia when she heard the wolf whistle behind her and the beat up chevy drawing up.

She immediately panicked , her heart started to race – maybe it was a bad man. Should she turn and run for the woods?

'Hey, Lady!' A voice (she immediately identified as _redneck_) called after her. This scared her even more.

'Go away!' She crossed her arms and ignored him. Carried on walking while the Chevy trailed slowly after her.

'Ya don't wanna be walkin' round alone late at night round here. That bar ya came from has a bad reputation.'

'I'm OK. I got my ride. He'll be here in a minute.' She lied.

'Where is he?' The redneck laughed to show he didn't believe her. She stopped and he drew up to her. She saw he was a young man (Viking) strikingly handsome. 'He ain't comin', is he? Ah, poor little rich girl, all alone. Away from home, outta the big city.' He drawled, mocking her.

She looked into those twinkling blue eyes. ' I ain't rich!' She snapped back. 'And I'm fine, thank-you very much!'

He sighed. 'Well, ya choice if ya wanna get raped and murdered.'

She looked at him – he seemed dangerous somehow. And he was rough and he leered her as his looked her body up and down. Taking in her slim curves with an appreciative eye. Because Andrea always looked after herself – ate right, went to the gym, joined yoga classes. And she didn't mix with these types of people – rednecks, hillybillies – didn't know how to deal with them.

He shrugged. 'Ya choice. Ain't no taxis around here. Where do ya wanna go? I can take ya if it's someplace South. I don't really have a plan. _ Like Atlanta_ for instance?' He guessed.

'I'm fine, thanks.' She carried on walking.

Behind her, one of the men she'd turned down was stalking her in the shadows but she didn't see him. He was waiting to take his chance when the Chevy was gone. If she didn't get in it, that was.

'And ya can pay me back in _other ways_ if ya get my drift.' He waggled his tongue obscenely at her.

'Ugh.' She sneered at him in disgust. Started to walk away while he trailed her slowly. 'Fuck you.'

He shrugged. 'With pleasure.' He sniggered dirtily. 'Or ya got money then? 'Cos ya don't sound like ya from around here.' He took in her designer clothes, her Louis Vuitton (genuine) handbag. Her salon-pampered blond curls and her red, genuine leather shoes.

'Yeah...'he drawled.'Ya a rich city girl from the city, ain't ya? What's a girl like ya doin' round here with all us poor folks?'

She continued to stubbornly ignore him so he gave up. 'Bye then, hope nothin' bad happens to ya.' His parting shot as he was about to drive off.

Behind her in the shadows the other man pricked up his ears. _Stupid slut wasn't going to take the offer_. _Rich bitch from the city thinks she's too good for me? I'm gonna make her scream and not in a good way, either. _

'Wait.' Despite all her instincts screaming _No! He's dangerous, crazy!_ Remembering her mother telling her not to get into strange men's cars since she was small because men were dangerous. And he was a _redneck_. But she patted the gun she had in her handbag, just in case he turned nasty. She was done being afraid. After all, she'd taken self-defence women's classes recently so she felt confident she could handle herself. Wanted to try out her skills.

In fact, he'd already leered at her and made a (serious?) indecent proposal to her. He was clearly a pervert.

She would just have to toughen the fuck up. Not let this rough man scare her or show that he intimidated her.

But he was kind of sexy too. And she'd come here for an adventure, away from her 'safe' life in Atlanta.

He stopped. 'Can ya take me back to Atlanta?'

_Behind her, her stalker hissed in frustration and swore. But she never saw him. _

'Ya got money? See- I'd be a_ gentleman_ and not ask but I'm kinda desperate.' _I need it for Daryl, he was thinking. _He guffawed then as if he had told her the world's funniest joke.

'Sure. 50 dollars do?'

'How about 150?' He'd already run out of smokes and beer.

' OK. 'She shrugged at the extortionate amount. It was best not to antagonise this fierce redneck who she sensed could turn nasty any minute. She only had 200 on her. She passed the 150 to him as she got in the back trying to find space amongst all the empty beer bottles and fast food cartons.

Where she felt safer anyway. She could always get more money out when they got there.

_If he doesn't rape me and mug me for the rest or kill me first, she thought. But she pushed her worries aside. Because this man did definitely not make her feel safe. Well, then she would shoot and kill him. _

Then she saw the young boy for the first time when she got in - small and slim - about 14 or 15 she guessed, sleeping in the front seat, face turned to face her sideways. She hadn't known he was there. Suddenly the man turned aggressive when he saw her staring at him. 'What the fuck ya lookin' at? Got somethin' to say, do ya?' He snarled at her, making her immediately regret her decision to get into his truck. But she didn't miss how he unconsciously put out a warding hand between the youth and her.

'N-nothing.' She'd quickly looked away but not before giving a gasp as a passing car shone its lights into them. Because the kid looked like he'd had the shit beaten out of him, his face was sporting fading black and blue bruises, a split lip and there were fading red marks around his throat like he'd been garotted. She knew boys his age got into fights with one another all the time but this didn't look like a fist fight with a peer.

His injuries screamed _abuse_. They'd just done domestic abuse cases last semester.

Had the man done that to him? Kidnapped and tortured him?

Was he a serial killer? She thought as she was about to make her move and get out of the car. She started to panic.

Too late – it started moving.

Merle had noticed her shock when she saw Daryl and smirked at her discomfort.

'Who...who's that?' She stammered.

'My brother.' He replied sharply and something in his tone told her to shut up because he was obviously a topic not up for discussion. As he turned to face back to the road and they drove in an uneasy silence. They hadn't even exchanged names – a common courtesy. But this didn't seem important somehow.

She eventually dozed off but was woken up by the boy thrashing around in his seat.

'No...no...please don't make me...' He pleaded. 'Get off me...No...NO!' And she realised he was still asleep, having a bad dream.

'Calm the fuck down, Daryl!' The man hissed at him but the boy didn't wake up. Instead his flailing movements only got more desperate– he nearly hit the gear -stick forcing the redneck who swore loudly, to bring the car to a screeching halt (luckily this country road was empty) and turn off into a clearing near the forest edge.

'No!' Daryl screamed again in his sleep, still thrashing around like he was trying to escape something or _someone_, miraculously, still not waking up.

Andrea just stared, wondering if she should make her move now while the stranger (they still hadn't exchanged names) was distracted by his brother. Get out of the car and run. But where would she go? Nothing but miles and miles of forest on either side. She sensed the nearest town was days' walk away. Thoughts along the lines of those creepy, horror movies set in these kind of isolated areas where sadistic hillbillies preyed on sophisticated urban women like her came to her mind then.

The man hadn't hurt her (yet – she reminded herself) and she was probably safer with him and his battered and bruised brother who looked like he'd been dragged to hell and back.

'Sh...sh...' The man whispered but making no attempt to wake him up. 'Ya OK now.' He stroked his brother's hair back tenderly, 'Ya OK., boy.'

But Daryl only whimpered in his sleep in reply.

'It's OK. _Merle's_ here.' He continued crooning to him – talking to him like he was a baby.

_Why was he talking to him like that? _And she started to think that maybe this Merle wasn't all bad if he was like this with his brother.

'Shouldn't you wake him up?' She timidly suggested. Knowing that this _Daryl_ was a strictly off-limits topic.

'No. He needs his sleep. Besides, he always does this - he'll be OK in a minute.' He didn't tell her that he'd given Daryl one of their father's pills to make him sleep through the night.

He continued to soothe his brother's hair until he was quiet again. 'Merle's here. Ain't gonna let nothin' bad happen to ya.' After a while, Daryl calmed down after a couple of twitches and fell asleep – went back to snoring lightly.

Andrea was curious. These people looked like they were on the run from something.

Something _bad_.

'What happened to him?' She dared to ask.

Merle looked back at her and his eyes were glittering hard, unreadable.

'He's been through shit, that's _what_.'

'But he's getting better.' He added.

And she knew that she'd been scared of the man at first – still was, if truth be told. Had a feeling that he'd be capable of cold-blooded murder.

But isn't that why she'd got into his car? Because he has that air of menace, of danger crackling around him. She'd come out her looking for something other than her safe, always gentle, always asking permission first, -respectful -to- women- boyfriend. Also on the same law course in Atlanta.

She hadn't seen the boy with him.

And she knew that it wrong but the way he touched his brother even though it was the way a parent might comfort a small child – made her wonder what his hands would do if they _caressed _her breasts like that.

What they would feel like if he stuck his hands into her panties? _His fingers inside her_? At this thought, she wondered whether he be as gentle as he was with his brother or rough?

What if he talked dirty to her in that same gentle, crooning voice he'd used with him? Stroked her hair and...other parts of her body while he did it?

She'd go crazy, if he did, she knew it.

She hoped he'd be rough she thought as she felt the heat and _the need_ rise from between her legs. Pushed away the images of rutting with him pushing her up against a tree in the forest nearby.

_Fuck. Why was she thinking about sex now?_

She turned her face away – hoping he somehow didn't sense her thoughts or see the blush heating her cheeks.

She woke up to find the car wasn't moving and Merle on top of her, pinning her down in the back of the car.

'Time to pay up.' He snarled.

iii.

Andrea

He was pinning me down roughly by my arms to the backseat and I knew I would have bruises. His breath stank of beer, his hard body was pressed against me and I felt mine responding.

His flint-grey eyes clashed with mine and I knew he was capable of killing me.

'Time to pay up.' He snarled. 'Ya pay with money and ya pay with ya...' He leered at my body.

I didn't struggle, stood my ground. Spat at him.

He smirked and released one arm to wipe his face. Held me pinned with one hand. I was expecting him to hit me. But he didn't/

'Feisty, ain't ya. I always like the ones who fight.'

'Fuck you.'

'We'll get to that in a minute.' He sneered.

'What do you want? I gave you the money.' Refusing to show fear.

'I need all of it. For him.' He jerked his hand back to his brother. 'But it don't matter. I'm just gonna take all of it anyway. Jus' like I take everythin' I want. Jus' like I'm gonna take you.'

He grabbed me painfully by the hair, opened the car door and threw me onto the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

Daryl

He was calling to me again as I tried to run out the house. Didn't get far.

'Merle ain't here.' he sneered as he saw me looking round frantically for him. 'No point bleatin' for _him_.'

'Fuck ya, he's gonna kill ya one of these days when he finds out what ya doin'.' I snarled at him.

That earned me a slap that snapped the back of my head against the wall. I saw stars.

Then he laughed manically. 'He ain't ever gonna find out 'cos you'll never tell anyone that ya my little slut and I use ya whenever I want. And that ya so hot for it ya fuckin' moan and writhe like a whore 'cos ya like fuckin' ya own Daddy. Ya too ashamed. Merle would be disgusted with ya.'

'Ain't true! I fuckin' hate what ya do to me!' I screamed back, releasing all my pent-up rage. And it felt good. Then I instinctively cowered back, expecting to be punished for this outburst before I looked down at the ground. He was right, I was ashamed. Of letting him do his shit to me and not being big or strong enough yet to fight back. I was filthy, I was dirty.

I was nothing. No one. Always going to be a nobody.

He didn't punch me for this disrespect, as I expected, just smirked. Started undoing his belt and I couldn't help the whimper that stole past my lips. Fuck! I was such a pussy – just like Merle was always calling me.

But then seemed he seemed to reconsider. Grabbed me by the arm and manhandled me to the kitchen, even though I bitterly resisted, dragging my feet. Until he pinned me up against the wall in the hall and pressed himself against me. So I could feel how hard he already was. I shuddered.

The consequences of resistance were clear. The threat of rape always worked and I stopped struggling and nodded. Hating myself for my fear and for giving in to him so easily. Merle wouldn't have done, I was sure.

'Fuckin' little piece of worthless shit. Ya only good for that – for fuckin'. 'Cos ya _weak_, boy. Always whimperin' and whinin'. Merle never _did_.' He sneered at me.

_Did you do it to Merle?_ I thought but didn't dare to ask. I couldn't bear the thought of my brother suffering through the rapes. But I didn't think so, somehow.

No, the bastard had left those special punishments for me and me alone. I didn't dwell on the reasons why.

'Daddy's got a nice treat for ya today.' He said in a soft, sing-song voice that made my flesh crawl now, because it was the same one he had used to read me bedtime stories when I was small. Talking to me like I was five years old again as he forced me to the floor. Tenderly stroked my hair until I wanted to scream in revulsion. Yanked my T-shirt off over my head and traced the scars he gave me when I was ten with his finger.

Bastard was proud of his handiwork.

'You'll never forget me, even when I'm dead. 'Cos ya got my marks on ya.'

'Fuck you. Ya can't live forever and then I'll forget all about ya! Merle too!' I snarled back.

He punched my kidneys about 6 times in the same place for that particular show of disrespect. I was proud of not crying out with the pain - I just grunted. But knew I'd probably be pissing blood for about a week afterwards.

Wouldn't be the first time either.

He seemed frustrated that he hadn't made me cry or beg yet.

'Ya stay there, don't move. Ya do, ya know what'll happen - I'll rip up ya insides with my cock.'

I said nothing because I knew he was deadly serious and kept my head down. Kept still like he ordered me.

He stepped over me to get the kitchen knife. Waved it in front of me.

_Was he going to kill me? _A wave of shame washed over me as I began to whimper.

He grabbed me spitefully by the hair. 'Shut up, cryin', ya littl' bitch.'

_Merle_! _Why didn't ya ever notice what he was doing to me?Why are you always stoned and piss-drunk when you're at home?_

_Why are you never at home?_

He straddled me. Slapped my the back of my head.

'Ready for ya treat?'

'Fuck off.'

He slammed my head down on the ground for that.

I felt the point of the knife pressing into the middle of my back – just lightly. Bastard was teasing me.

'Hmm...where shall I do it first?' He mused quietly to himself. Tracing the knife over my skin. There was no pain yet – just pressure but I couldn't help my body's reaction as I shuddered and instinctively tried to jerk away from the blade. Even though it was dangerous.

Probably going over my scars from the belt with it – sick fuck was obsessed with them.

'How about here?'

He suddenly moved the knife lower and I whimpered. Pulled down my jeans and I didn't resist – not when he had the knife . Just like he was undressing me when I was younger. Innocently putting me to bed except for the knife on my back.

Tugged my jeans off down my legs and feet. I knew what was coming next – what _always_ came next lately.

'Ya don't like what I do to ya, maybe ya like this better?' He slit through both sides of my underwear then pulled it off. I started to struggle and he slashed my back – just one cut and not very deep. Still, the pain was excruciating. It was just a warning – fight me and I'll cut you deeper.

I started to sob in the shame and humiliation. And terror – what was he going to do with that knife?

Was he going to kill me? And part of me – I'm ashamed to say – was relieved that I wouldn't have to suffer his gropes or his violations anymore.

But I couldn't see what he was doing and this just added to my sense of panic. My breath came short and fast as my chest hitched in and out. Feeling like I couldn't breathe.

And I knew he was smiling – could hear it in his voice. He'd finally made me cry.

'Ya don't like _me _ inside ya, maybe ya like this better? Better not move a muscle, boy – otherwise might do some serious damage.' He laughed then, mockingly.

He slid the point of the knife into my backside lightly over my skin. Then into me. _He was fucking me with it!_

Deeper and Deeper. I fought with myself not to panic – knowing any sudden movement was dangerous – that he was right.

I hoped that he hadn't done any serious damage already.

'Please...Daddy...'

'Shut the fuck up!' He hissed at me but he did take the knife out. Slowly and carefully.

Only to use it to slash my back again. This time a little deeper. I couldn't help screaming.

He punched me down.

'See, my little whore, I've made more! More scars!' He shouted triumphantly as I felt the burning sting of the cuts and the blood trickling down my stinging back.

I knew then he was crazy. If by some miracle, I hadn't realised before.

Then, he slowly started to reinsert the knife. 'Don't fuckin' move.' He warned me again but I couldn't help wondering - what if he cut me inside?

I whimpered. 'Daddy...' I whined.

'What now? This is supposed to by ya treat, should be enjoyin' ya sweet self...Say ya want me inside ya otherwise I'll go all the way in with it and cut ya up inside.' But the knife stopped moving deeper inside me. Was still.

'Say it!' He yelled at me but he still didn't take the knife out of me. At least it wasn't moving.

'I want ya inside me, Dad!' I cried in tears of shame and humiliation. Him raping me was one thing but pretending that I wanted him to was another form of torture entirely.

He smiled then and slid the knife out of me and threw it carelessly across the kitchen floor. I saw my blood on it. Had he cut something inside me? Stupidly, I wondered dully if we were still going to use it for cooking after it'd been up my ass. This thought made me give out a few hysterical giggles and he seemed pleased with them because he didn't punish me. Just ruffled my hair. 'Good boy.' He praised me like I was a dog while I cringed away from his caresses. Then he reached for the jar of lube he'd naturally brought with him, when he'd dragged me into the kitchen. Started sticking his fingers inside me and stretching me. 'See how good Daddy is to ya, tryin' to make things easier on ya. Don't have to do this, ya know.'

'Fuck you!' I screamed in rage as well as pain.

I got a hard slap for that. 'Tell me again and sound like ya mean it.' He started to pull down his trousers and grease himself up. I trembled because I knew what was coming next.

'I want to hear ya moan, my sweet little whore. Like ya Mama did 'cos she ain't around no more 'cos of ya. Show me ya like it.' He whispered throatily in my ear, already entering me. I stiffened.

'Go on!' He ordered me before he started moving inside me. 'Go on, ya little slut, show ya Daddy ya like fuckin' him.'

And I'm ashamed to say I did what he said. Pretended that I wanted it, that I was enjoying it. I writhed and moaned, begged him for more like I was in training to be the world's greatest prostitute. And any time he thought my enthusiasm was flagging or he wasn't if truly convinced by my act or I cried out in pain - he'd punish me some more. Either by a heavy blow or getting really rough with me - going deeper and deeper until I felt like I was being ripped apart.

Or worse - he'd threaten to fuck me with the knife instead.

Finally - 'Maybe I should cut ya's off - not like ya need it. All I need ya for is ya sweet little mouth and ya tight little asshole.' He wondered aloud between ecstatic groans. 'Maybe I will one day if ya don't play nice.' He threatened, thrusting even deeper into me just before he came.

I whimpered pathetically at that. Hating myself for not being able to stop myself.

'No!' I heard myself scream as I woke up. It had been a nightmare but it was also a memory too – like so many of my bad dreams since his 'punishments' had gone up a whole new level. Because it had really happened - just like that. Word for word, blow by blow and after that time with the knife, I'd bled for weeks afterwards. Was about to go and see the doctor even if they did find out what my my father was doing to me but then the flow suddenly dried up and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I tried to stop myself from shaking and told myself that he was dead – my brother had killed him for me and it was just a bad memory. Then I realised that I was all alone in the car.

_Merle! Where the fuck are ya, bro?_

In my panic I tried to open the car door – tried to open all of them but he'd locked me in – _of course he had_.

I told myself that he probably just went to take a piss and suddenly I really needed to go too. We'd drunk all the beer – Merle more than me, of course and I wondered that he was still sober enough to drive. But he never seemed to get affected by beer no matter how much he drank.

ii

Andrea

'Ya got 10 seconds to tell me 'No. We're not gonna do this. Then we'll just get back in the car. If ya don't, it's too late and I'm not gonna stop. 10...9...8...' He was on top of me but apart from that not doing anything.

I looked at him, yanked his lips down to mine by his hair, wrapped my legs round him. My answer was clear.

'What about him?' I pointed to the car.

He sighed, got up and locked the door. Put the keys in his pocket. 'Keep him safe.' He muttered and grabbed my hand and pulled me into the woods. My tried to brush the dirt off from my dress and he smirked. 'Wouldn't bother if I was you.'

He dragged me to a clearing. The full moon illuminated it perfectly and it was a warm summer's night. _So romantic. _ I thought sarcastically.

'How we gonna do this? Ya like it rough ...or not so rough?' He snarled. 'Cos I only do rough.' He sniggered.'In case ya hadn't guessed by now.'

'Rough.' Because Daniel was always so gentle and respectful that sometimes I just wanted to scream when we were together. His soft touches just failed to turn me on at times.

I wanted something else. Wasn't that why I went to that bar alone? Subconsciously planned it so that I wouldn't get a taxi so that I'd be stranded in the wrong place with the wrong people?

Instead I'd met this young, handsome terrifying redneck and his mysterious teenage brother who looked like someone had beaten ten bells out of him. Looked like they were fleeing something.

'OK then.' He slammed me against the tree, just like I'd seen in my fantasy, his hands all over me while his tongue danced in my mouth.

Then he was kissing my neck or more accurately, he was biting it and I knew I would also have bright red hickies tomorrow. Why the hell didn't I bring a scarf?

He attacked my breasts, making me moan and arch my neck. Before he went back to kissing me again.

Then he shoved his fingers into my underwear before checking how wet I was. 'Ready?' he asked when I ground myself against him and moaned. Didn't need to use words.

'Soakin.' He answered his own question.

'Talk to me like you did to your brother.' He drew back. 'What?'

'Use that voice.' I ordered him. He crooned filth to me while he pounded into me against the tree, holding me up there, then he took me and threw me down on the ground. I screamed out my orgasm into the forest. And took me that way. I screamed again.

When we got back to the car, I could hardly walk. Merle smirked at me and we exchanged secret smiles. But then we saw Daryl banging on the window in a panic.

Merle rushed to open the side of his door. 'OK, OK. No need to panic.'

'I had a bad dream and when I woke up I thought you'd gone and left me...locked in here...' He was hyperventilating – his chest hitching in and out.

'Calm down, little brother. No need to get ya panties in a twist.'

Then he saw me in my filthy dress and messed up hair. My face with all smeared make up. No doubt I needed a shower. His eyebrows rose in surprise.'Who...who's she?'

'Someone who's paying us to take her back to Atlanta on our way to...to...' He didn't finish the sentence or bother to ask me my name.

'Andrea.' I introduced myself. The boy looked from me to Merle and rolled his eyes. It was obvious what we'd been doing. 'And you're Daryl, aren't you?'

He nodded and looked shyly down at the ground.

'Nice to meet you.' He said politely without meeting my eyes.

'Same to you.'

'Please.' Merle held the back door open for me. '_Ladies_ first.' He drawled in mock courtesy. Stressing the word 'Ladies' to let me know that he most definitely didn't think I was one.

I sneered back at him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

i.

Andrea

They were in her nice 3 bedroom city apartment – because despite denying it – she _was _rich. And on her way to being a hotshot civil rights lawyer. Her parents gave a her a large monthly allowance so she didn't have to worry about money and she had a few days break before the beginning of the next semester. When they'd arrived in the city, she hadn't wanted to leave them – something about the brothers intrigued her. Especially Daryl – he seemed so frail and vulnerable with his haunted eyes. And so sweet that she'd really started to care about him too. She didn't want to call it pity or that she wanted to help them. But she wanted to know their story – what they were running from. They didn't even seem to have any idea where they were going.

Besides, the sex with Merle was amazing, the best she'd ever had.

Maybe she also saw it as a kind of 'fuck you' to her family and friends who would definitely not approve of her visitors.

She was getting frisky with Merle when they heard Daryl next door. Sobbing in his sleep – he had been taking a nap before dinner.

'Damn!' Merle cried out in frustration. 'How long is he going to keep up this shit for? Ya know he does it every night but he'd do it all night long if I didn't give him those fuckin' pills. Only way he gets any quality sleep. And he's gettin' used to them – and we're runnin' out.'

Andrea reluctantly disentangled herself from him and sighed. 'You better go and see to him.'

Merle put on some clothes.

'You never told me what happened to him. Who beat him up like that.' She said before he went to his brother. Daryl's bruises had healed in the meantime. 'Who strangled him.'

He turned back to her before he opened the door. 'I guess ya got ya suspicions. It's a very sad, very long and very fucked up story. Better leave it for another time.'

She heard him next door.

'Now, now. What's wrong? Merle's here, it's OK... It's OK.'

ii.

Daryl

I woke up with my brother impatiently shaking me from another nightmare in the guest bedroom of Andrea's Atlanta apartment – we had never lived anywhere so nice. Never even been in a place like this before. Clean white sheets, real marble worktops in the kitchen and a view of the city skyline and fancy food and drink in the fridge which me and Merle didn't like much, if truth be told. Complete with a huge bath that I loved to fill up with smelly bath salts and wallow in. Andrea was loaded. Lucky she and Merle hooked up although why a classy girl was with my brother, I had no idea. I just counted every day she put up with him as a blessing – didn't expect it to last. 'Cos Dixons was cursed, never had no luck. Then I noticed with surprise that my chest was hitching and my eyes and my pillow was soaking wet. Sobs and whimpering sounds were coming out of my mouth.

Had I been crying in my sleep again? I functioned pretty well during the day – managed to push all thoughts of Dad away but then I couldn't seem to stop going back to the past in my dreams. Always dreamt of _him _practically every night.

_You'll never forget me, even when I'm dead. Ya got my marks on ya._

_I own ya._

_You'll always remember this as long as ya live.'_

I shuddered and trembled. Was it ever going to stop? I was _weak_, just like he always said.

Now my brother was cradling my head to his chest on the bed. His strong arms were around me, making me feel safe as my breathing slowly returned to normal. 'Fuck me Daryl, I know ya been through hell and back but it happened three weeks ago! I fuckin' killed him (he whispered this in my ear so Andrea wouldn't hear) and he can't hurt ya any more. And more importantly - it looks like we got away with it – he jus' upped and disappeared and no one gives a shit.' He guffawed. (We knew what the local cops at home were like. Couldn't find their own buttholes with their fingers - luckily for us)

Ya should be startin' to get over it by now.' He kept on at me. But I couldn't help my subconscious or my dreams, could I?

'I know. ' I told him. 'It's just that I dream of _him_ every night.'

He sighed. Then he brushed back a stray strand of hair from my forehead and shook me gently. 'Ya gotta toughen the fuck up, little Darlena. Ya Dixon, not a pussy! All this cryin' and shit...it's for weak people. And I know ya ain't weak. ''

I bowed my head and he hugged me harder to him.

iii

Andrea

I heard the two of them in there – well most of what they said –what they whispered, I couldn't hear.

'Merle?'

He looked up at me, looking drained.

'What happened to him? It was your father, wasn't it? Is that why you ran away because he's still a minor?'

He nodded but his eyes blazed with hatred. The intensity of his rage made me instinctively draw back. If I made him angry enough or threatened his brother, I felt he was capable of killing me with his bare hands without looking twice.

'Just had to get the fuck outta there.'

'And he didn't just beat Daryl up did he?'

'How do you know...?' He looked up in surprise.

'It's pretty obvious.' I remembered the bright red marks on his neck. The things he'd said in his sleep.

Merle hated the thought of what had been done to his brother being clear for everyone to see. 'I wish that's all he'd done to him. Which is bad enough. But no, Daddy was a sick fuck. Did fuckin' _everythin' _to little Darlena.'

He didn't need to spell it out.

'Poor boy. You know, you telling him to snap out of it isn't going to help. He's been through a lot of trauma.'

'We've all been through a lot of trauma!' He snapped. 'Ain't nobody in life ever had a smooth ride.'

'Three weeks isn't long enough. _Three years _probably isn't going to do it either.'

'Well, it'll just have to, won't it?' He snapped. 'Daryl's a Dixon, and he's a tough little bastard even though he mightn't seem like it sometimes. Jus' needs time, is all.'

'I'm just saying ...maybe you should be a bit more patient and understanding...'

'Ain't none of your damn business! I know how to deal with my baby brother. I know what he needs. And mollycoddlin' and wrappin' him up in cotton wool ain't gonna help because he's a Dixon and not a prissy pansy fag for fuck's sake.' He snapped at me.

He was almost yelling and I knew that we were on dangerous ground.

'OK, OK.' I put my hands up in surrender. 'What do you fancy for dinner?' I asked to change the subject.

'Turkey pot pie and fries.' I rolled my eyes at his redneck taste in food.

'Got any more beer?' He asked. 'Me and Daryl is thirsty.'

'Help yourself.' He opened the fridge and opened one, handing it to her first while she started cooking.

'Who says I ain't a gentleman?'

She rolled her eyes. Kissed him on the lips, hers just brushing his until he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer. Shoved her against the fridge while the cold beer bottle sat between them.

'Ugh. Get a room.' Daryl had come in with his eyes rolling at this display of affection. He was only half joking too.

'Little brother, when ya get a girl, ya'll understand.' Merle turned round and smirked at him.

'I'm hungry. We got anythin' to eat?'

'Jus' doin' it, sweetheart.' I said over my shoulder even though I knew that he wasn't that much younger than me but he seemed it.

iv

I came back from class and found them on the sofa together watching South Park. Daryl was stretched out with his head lying in his brother's lap while Merle stroked his dark hair almost absent-mindedly. He also had one arm protectively around Daryl. In case danger showed up even in the security of my own home with the wardens and porter downstairs.

I stood back and watched this cute scene. Were brothers normally like this together? This close and affectionate? But then, most boys hadn't been through what Daryl had. No wonder Merle was different with him and Daryl needed him more than most boys needed their big brothers.

He was all Daryl had and vice-versa.

Somehow, Merle's little pep talk with him seemed to work. Maybe the Dixons were really different from everyone else because Daryl started to act out less in his sleep. Now it was only down to maybe twice or three times a week. Even those times when Merle would have to go in and calm him down were getting fewer and fewer and he was no longer taking the sleeping pills. Most nights now he slept right through like everyone else.

I marvelled at his strength when most people would have broken without years of therapy. Merle hadn't told me it all in detail but I could guess and the truth would be far worse than anything I could imagine.

'Dinner's in the oven. Tuna pasta casserole. With green salad and a nice bottle of red.' Merle called out, not even looking back at me. Didn't stop stroking Daryl either. 'I know how ya only eat that healthy shit.'

I ignored his snigger. 'Thanks.' I replied. Merle was actually quite a good cook, surprisingly.

'And I bought something – put it on the table.' Daryl piped up from under Merle's hand. I went to see – a lovely bunch of pink roses in a vase and a small box of chocolates.

'Thanks, Daryl! That's really sweet.' I called back to him and saw him give a small smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Well I was going to stop at Chapter 5 – seemed like a natural ending but I don't want this story to stop.**

i.

Two weeks later

Daryl

I woke up to my brother shaking me but this time not from a nightmare about Dad. Those bad dreams had stopped thankfully and I couldn't even remember what I'd dreamt most days.

'What is it, bro?' I asked sleepily. 'OK - OK, I'm up.'

'It's 10 o'clock!' My brother clucked like a mother hen, like I was late for school or something. I laughed inside at this image of Merle.

'So?' I was a typical teenager – would sleep most of the hours of the day if I could. 'Get off me, will ya?' I snapped irritably at him.

'So?' He said incredulously. 'She's gonna be back in two hours.'

'Well? Why did ya wake me up for that for?'

'Cos we're leavin'.'

'Wha...what?' I sat up then in shock. I'd got used to it here, the city, the energy – the rush of people. But I didn't belong here, couldn't stay. However, Andrea was the best that Merle was ever going to find. I still couldn't believe that they were together.

'Why?'

'Well...ya all better now and it's time to leave.'

'What about Andrea?'

'She was a good lay but now it's over. Weren't never gonna work long-term anyway. 'Sides her ex is sniffin' round and I think we've outstayed our welcome.'

I cringed at that because Andrea had been really good to us, put us up and fed us for nothing and I felt she deserved a bit more respect than that. But I knew my brother but I was different because when I found a girl, it would be for real. For keeps.

'So, start packing, little brother.' He ruffled my hair. To be honest, I know what he meant, I'd enjoyed this time in the city but I was missing the forest already – was out of practice with my crossbow, my fingers were itching to track some prey. Shoot our own dinner, not for it to come sterile, pre-packaged in plastic – Dixon style.

I got up and got dressed. Merle slammed down some toast and jam on the table for my breakfast. And a cup of black coffee – two sugars just how I liked it in the mornings.

'Eat.' He ordered me curtly. 'Ya packed?'

'Yeah.' It had taken me all of five minutes to gather my meagre belongings together. Throw them into a holdall.

'We goin' without even sayin' goodbye? Without leavin' a note?' I said between mouthfuls. Damn, I was hungry – had put on a little weight – my gaunt cheeks had filled out now that Dad was gone and I'd even had a growth spurt. My appetite had increased now I didn't have to worry about him and what he was going to do to me next and my stomach no longer churned like a tumble dryer making me nauseous and unable to eat.

'Yeah. Less painful all round that way. Eat up, boy. Ya want some more?'

'Yeah.' He put another couple of slices in the toaster. 'What ya want on them?'

'Nutella – if there's any left.'

'OK.' He found some in the store cupboard.

'Glad to see ya eatin'. Don't look like a skinny little scarecrow, no more do ya, hey Darlena?'

I nodded. He grinned. Ruffled my hair again fondly while I protested.

ii.

Andrea was going to be back in about 30 minutes after we got in the car.

With a shock I noticed what was piled up the backseat. I suspected that there was more in the boot.

'Wha...what?' I stammered. 'What's all this stuff? _Her stuff_? What ya done, Merle?'

He turned away, wouldn't meet my eyes. 'Bitch is rich.' He said simply. 'Can afford it.'

I looked at the VCR player, videos and CD's, books and the TV, even the damn microwave amongst other stuff.

'She weren't no bitch! She was good to us, Merle.' I accused.

He turned round and glared at me then. 'They all the same, don't ya know that, boy? Quit being a little girl, Daryl. She's rich, she ain't gonna miss any of it. Daddy jus' gonna buy her a new one.'

'Ya don't know that. Take it back now.' I ordered him but it was no use so I grabbed the steering wheel and we skidded dangerously on the highway. Other drivers yelled and hooted at us furiously. 'Stop! We're going back!' I insisted but he slapped me hard sideways then and I let go. Rubbed my face.

'I didn't want to do that but ya know what I did for ya...'

'I know.' He meant he'd killed Dad for me and disposed of the body.

'It still ain't right!' I yelled.

'Shut ya little mouth, Darlena. I saved ya and I'm gonna make sure ya stay safe. That's why we need her shit to sell, OK?'

'Don't put this on me, make out ya did it for me. You're a thievin' asshole.' I snarled at him as I slumped back in the seat, scowling. Crossed my arms over my chest and refused to speak to him for the rest of the journey.

Wherever the hell we were going.

iii

Merle

How dare he look at me like that after everything I did for him? I killed our father for him for fuck's sake when I had loved Dad despite everything he did to us. But not after I came home and saw what he was doing to Daryl. Weren't no gentle grooming or slow seduction either – was pure torture. Then the love vanished suddenly and was replaced only by rage and hatred. I still didn't regret what I did – how I made sure that he felt at least some of the pain he'd inflicted on Daryl before I put him out of his misery. But it would never be enough, still better than the bastard deserved.

That was the worst day of my life and the image of them together was burnt forever into my memory.

Did that mean I had always loved my little brother more?

I didn't know. All knew that I would kill anyone who hurt him or even so much as threatened him. I'd felt like this about him since he was a baby – had protected him from the old man enough times.

Yes – I'd enjoyed myself with Andrea, she'd been generous and we'd had fun together – she was a hot vixen in bed – was willing to try most things. I had liked that about her but now it was time to move on.

To leave. Because Dixons didn't belong in cities. Everything in us was harkening us back to the forest, the fresh air, the mountains – to nature. But it had given Daryl the time he needed to get over what Dad did to him.  
I looked over at him but he deliberately ignored me. How long was he going to sulk for? Just because I had taken a few things from Andrea who was rich enough not to care?  
It was all for him anyway, why couldn't he see?  
When we stopped, I tried to grab him, pull him towards my chest but he resisted and I as sure as hell wasn't going to force him – not after what I saw Dad doing to him on that day. So I let him go and he slumped against the seat.  
'Daryl...'  
'What?' He answered belligerently and part of me couldn't help rejoice when I saw that he was back to his old tough self. That familiar hard glint in his eye had replaced his former air of fragility and vulnerability. Baby boy Dixon was back.  
'Nothin'.' I muttered because he'd rounded on me in fury. 'I ain't talkiin' to ya. Andrea was nice - she didn't deserve any of it.' He declared and I wondered how long he was going to keep up this shit for. All over a woman and there were plenty of them in the world. 'Fine.' I shrugged as if I didn't care.  
We were heading back to the mountains – the life we knew. After a few hours of awkward silence when I knew Daryl was only pretending to be asleep, we saw her waiting at the roadside. Looking all of 15 with a small backpack.  
My brother came to life as soon as he spotted her with her thumb out. 'Merle!' He cried.  
'OK...OK, just hope she's not a serial killer or a psycho.' I laughed at my own poor joke. 'Got to be careful who ya pick up these days.' He rolled his eyes at this but least I'd finally got a reaction out of him.  
A pretty girl with long, dark hair but her face was partly hidden by her parka hood.  
I stopped because it was raining heavily and the girl was shivering.  
'Where ya goin', honey?' I stuck my head out the window, tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. Believe it or not - I could be charming when I wanted to be. Too young for me to mess around with anyway. She looked down and I could tell she was shy. 'Nowhere. I mean - I don't care.'

'It's OK - we don't bite. Get in the back if ya can find room, honey.' I told her. 'This here's my brother.'

'Nice to meet you.' She shook hands with Daryl.

'I'm Daryl.' He said while I glared at him for giving his real name. Boy was just too trusting sometimes.

'Name's Katrina.' She replied but I was pretty sure it wasn't her real name. Girl had a more streetwise look about her than my brother – hell, she'd probably been _living _on the streets. Had that dishevelled, wary runaway look about her.

'Ya OK in the back?' I asked her.

'Fine, Sir.'

'Ya don't have to call me that. Name's Johnnie.' Now it was my brother's turn to look at me in surprise. I smirked at him to let him know to keep quiet.

'Do ya smoke or drink beer, Katrina?'

She shrugged. 'Both if they're goin.'

Daryl handed her the packet and she lit up with her own lighter. Then he opened her a bottle and handed her.

'Thanks.' She said but her eyes were still guarded.

What was her story? Looked like she was running from something too.

Something bad. Just like us a few weeks ago.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

i

Daryl

We sat round the campfire with our beers and our smokes when Merle edged closer and drew me to him. I had just put out my cigarette on the grass of the field we'd stopped in and I was still furious with him. I tensed at first but then I let him do whatever he wanted. So he pulled my head down onto his lap before he began to touch my hair like he usually did. Running his fingers through it and brushing it back, tidying it up before stroking it back and forth. And repeating the pattern again, over and over until I felt like dozing off. Like he'd done so often after he found me and Dad together that last time until my body stopped trembling and my panicky breathing slowed and with it, the pain – at first physical as well as mental, faded. Because he always knew how to make it all go away. Make me forget for a while so I could sleep. One hand now, never letting go of his beer, of course, which he kept swigging from. I knew part of why he was doing it was to apologise for the slap earlier because he would never actually say he was sorry. Or say all the things he said with his hands – never with his mouth - that he he wish he'd caught Dad earlier, that he had been there more for me. That he'd been a big brother that I felt I could confide in, that he'd got us out of there long ago and got us our own place together instead of letting Dad do his sick, fucked-up shit to me. But then I had never heard him apologise for anything in his life before and it didn't matter. Because he'd hold me and stroke me like this for hours at times - sometimes on my bed, in front of the TV or in the car and other places since he'd found out what Dad was doing to me and I sighed in defeat because it just felt too damn good.

When nobody except Mama had ever touched me like that for a long time. I even snuggled closer to him despite my anger about what we'd done to Andrea. Somehow – although it sounded crazy- I knew that him doing this had helped chase away my nightmares faster because I hadn't had one for so long. As he'd done it practically every day like he was trying to make up for every sleazy caress of Dad's.

Or for every one of our father's perverted punishments or beatings when he hadn't been there to stop them. And I sensed Merle smirk at our hitchhiker, even though I couldn't see his face, as he tossed her one of his precious beers, challenging her to comment on this display.

But it felt nice, it felt good.

Most of all it made me feel safe and I gave in to the warm feelings of being loved and the waves of affection washing over me. Despite myself, even though I was still seriously pissed at him , I felt my anger reluctantly fade away.

But that was my big brother all over – he'd never loved a woman or cared about them, I think I was the only person in the world he was capable of loving. He only used and abused them like they were his personal playthings or his ATM. Even so, part of me had hoped that he did generally care about Andrea because he had seemed to actually like and respect her more than the others. Because she dared to stand up to him and point out when she thought he was in the wrong. But he'd still stolen from her.

Katrina didn't look surprised – as settled herself down on the other side of the fire. Looked bored even or was she trying to hard to seem that way? As she nursed her beer bottle between her legs between her long skirts.

But I noticed she kept a safe distance.

'So, what's ya story, girl?' My brother drawled at her, still caressing me on his lap making my eyes start to close in contentment, 'Where's ya family? What ya runnin' away from?'

'What are you?' She retorted rudely then clashed eyes with my brother and she glanced down at me. 'I mean – I don't want to sound rude and I'm grateful for the ride an' all but I'd rather not talk about it.'

Merle shrugged. Took a big swig from his bottle. Backed off when he saw he had touched a nerve. 'OK, then. We're all entitled to our secrets, ain't we, Daryl?' He looked down at me meaningfully as our shared secret passed between us and I couldn't help trembling at that. Remembering how he'd found me with Dad and what we'd done. Kicked myself for being so easily affected – all anyone had to do was mention my father and I started reacting like a scared little kid again. Like he was still _there_. I really was a sissy, a pussy, but to my surprise my brother didn't call me that – instead he hugged me closer to him then.

'Now girl, I don't mean to sound like an asshole but we're kind of desperate. That means that if ya gonna keep ridin' with us, ya gotta earn ya keep.'

She immediately stiffened and I sensed something dark flutter across her mind even though it was dusk and I couldn't see her face clearly. 'What do ya mean?'

'No, no ain't nothin' like that. I ain't gonna touch ya or do anythin' like that, I promise.' Merle understood her fear immediately and dismissed it. 'But ya see, we ain't got no money until we can sell the shit in the car. Now, ya been on the streets a while by the looks of ya...' He looked at her unwashed hair and her dirt-encrusted clothes. She hadn't smelled too fresh in the car either. Probably none of us did after 2 days on the road. The days were starting to get warmer too.

I didn't know why we just didn't go back home – they'd obviously decided that Dad was just a missing person or go somewhere else and settle down and find jobs. But he was right, we had no money.

She rolled her eyes. I knew he was lying – he'd stolen the petty cash from the tin in Andrea's cupboard but it probably wasn't much. Not for his booze and smokes requirements – not forgetting the drugs when he could get them. Must be getting jittery from his withdrawal symptoms by now.

'No...no I don't mean no offence by it. I mean – ya been _around. _ I'm guessin'ya know how to survive – get food. Steal without getting caught and so on.'

She shrugged. 'I guess. And I don't want to be a passenger – I mean you've given me a ride and ya food and ya drink.'

'What I'm getting at, sweetie (I recognised that velvety tone he used when he was trying to seduce a woman or persuade her to do something questionable in bed) is do ya know how to rob a store without getting caught?'

She didn't even look shocked. 'Sure. I used to do it all the time with...with...' She stopped and I sensed this person or people she was talking about was still a painful subject. I'd always been good at figuring people out, hearing what they left unsaid. Filling in the blanks. Was she talking about her boyfriend or companions when something bad had happened to them? She was obviously a street kid.

I was starting to get drowsy, my lids were fluttering under his hand. Merle noticed this and stifled his own yawn. 'Time to sleep, kids.' He announced, carrying on this big brother/uncle act as he released me and shoved me away from him. I went back to my blanket on the ground nearby and lay down. Got comfortable, laying out one of the blankets we'd brought with us.

The girl did the same. We'd brought three blankets. Luckily, spring was drawing on after the short Georgian winter and the fire and our coats was enough to keep us warm.

What was it with Merle picking up these women? And did I really trust him with the girl my age?

ii.

Andrea

I came home to find most of my stuff gone and screamed in fury. Was about to pick up the phone to call the police. Then I noticed my PC in the corner with all my school work on it and dropped the receiver with a bang onto the desk. _How considerate. _I thought bitterly – the bastard knew how important it was for my career so he left me that but then I noticed the the piece of folded paper poking from the corner.

_Sorry. _I read. _Thanks for everything__but we didn't have no choice. Don't blame you if you want to call the cops but by the time they come, we'll be far away._

_M. and D._

Merle! I screamed again. Not just from rage but a sense of loss to. I wasn't dumb enough to think that we were ever going to get married or anything like that but I had thought we at least had a special connection. And I found myself missing Daryl – his sweet smile in the mornings because I'd cared about him too. Had known that the brothers came as a package. I sighed, still debating with myself whether I should call the police until I heard the knocking on my door.

It was Daniel. He didn't know about Merle – I'd just dumped him and refused to see him – telling him that we'd grown apart since the holiday but not giving him any decent, real reason.

Yes – I'd been a bitch to him so I guess she deserved everything I got. Sometimes Karma was a bitch when she paid you back.

He came in, with a big bunch of roses. Trying his luck again but this time she'd let him in. But he washesitant – not knowing whether to hug her or not until she threw her arms around him in relief. 'I've been robbed!' She cried. He looked round suspiciously. 'It doesn't look like they broke in.'

She slapped her forehead dramatically. 'I am such an idiot – I must have forgot to lock the front door. The insurance'll never pay up now. Not worth phoning the police either – they'll just laugh at me.'

'Come here.' He said as he wrapped his arms around me 'I don't think you're an idiot. You could never be an idiot to _me_.' He kissed my forehead soothingly.

Then I remembered how special he was to me because Merle probably _would_ have called me an idiot. And told me it was all my own fault. But wasn't it? Wasn't his refreshing honesty one of the things that had attracted me to him in the first place?

'I'm so sorry, I've been such a bitch to you.' I sobbed on his shoulder. ' Can you ever forgive me?'

His passionate yet tentative kisses raining down on my face answered me for him.

iii

Miranda – 'Mira' to people who were close to her in whom she confided her real name tried to sleep as she tossed and turned. Finally, with a sigh, she reluctantly opened her little tin box of dwindling pills – downers - to calm herself down. She'd been trying to save them. Maybe it was the man – despite his avuncular act and his promises she couldn't help being wary of him – sensed the undercurrent of danger and threat running through him. His whole body seemed to bristle with dangerous energy. The boy seemed harmless – was skinny – looked about her own age. But then didn't she always feel like this to most fully-grown men? She'd lived on the streets for long enough – had narrowly avoided a few scrapes with some of them until she figured out she needed to find a group for protection. But still living rough had been better than staying at home. At least she had some control over her own life and she'd found out that a young girl like herself was easy prey until she learnt to protect herself. So she felt for knife and found its reassuring point in the folds of her skirts – deep in her pocket where she could easily reach it if she needed it.

But the man – Johnnie so he called himself was snoring or was he just pretending to lull her into a false sense of security?

She didn't wonder about this for long as her own exhaustion and the valium finally kicked in after a while and she fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

i.

Mira

I looked at the rough man – Johnnie and I still didn't trust him. But I blinked in surprise when he suddenly pulled his brother - who was about my age - to him. Started to stroke him like a pet animal on his lap with one hand and smirked at me, daring me to react. But I deliberately kept my face passive – I'd seen stranger things but I knew that brothers weren't usually this openly affectionate with one another once they were adults. Were usually worried about looking soft or gay or something but this Johnnie obviously didn't give a shit about what society said.

They _definitely_ weren't typical brothers. What had happened to make them so close? Despite the promise that I had long made to myself that I wouldn't care or risk getting involved with people who weren't mine, I started to wonder about their _story_.

Strange but maybe it made a welcome change to see such love and devotion when all I'd seen on the streets lately was shit - hate and cruelty. And pain.

Don't forget the _pain _– as the grief stabbed through me again and I pushed back the tears threatening to fall. Maybe the scene in front of me was affecting me more than usual.

_Fuck_ pain. _Fuck_ grief.

Johnnie's lips curled at the corners, daring me to comment on what he was doing.

Daryl started to close his eyes – just like a cat – basking in the warmth of his brother's love and affection. The way he snuggled trustingly in his brother's lap made my heart nearly stop in my chest.

I said nothing and Johnnie tossed me a beer. When he asked me about my story – I got defensive.

Was it that obvious? I hoped it wasn't written on my forehead.

All I wanted was a hot, clean shower be able to change into my clean clothes. Wash the ones I was wearing. No point until I could get myself clean. I needed to get money somehow. I was thinking as I drank my beer quickly.

I knew that I stank and my hair was a greasy ball of rat's tails. The brothers hadn't smelled much sweeter either. Even a cheap motel room would be heaven.

Eventually Johnnie pushed his brother away and Daryl stumbled dozily towards me, his lids already half closed - to lie between us. Somehow that made me feel safer even though he didn't look at me or speak to me.

I took my pill and turned on my side, wondering if I'd be able to really relax despite the valium. The guy said he didn't have any sleazy intentions but I knew guys like him. They'd say anything to get what they wanted or to let you lower your guard so they could pounce.

I was exhausted and the beer we'd drunk had relaxed me. I started to drift off wondering all the time if I'd wake up with the man on top off me, tearing at my clothes with his hand over my mouth. Getting off on having his brother sleeping nearby and demanding payback for the ride and the beer.

He looked the type and I was already regretting my decision to get into the car with them. But I'd had no choice – soaked through and starving not that hunger wasn't my usual companion these days.

Anyway, I told myself, I had my knife. Had fought off many guys like him before.

The last thing I did before I drifted off to sleep was fondle my dagger in the pocket of my skirts. I had to be careful with it – didn't want to stab myself with it in my sleep because I slept on it wrong.

ii.

Daryl

He was stroking me in front of our passenger then he released me to sleep. I felt sleepy, already half way to dreamland as something made me take my sleeping position between him and the girl.

I didn't quite trust him with her – knew how he was with girls. But he wasn't like our father, was he?

I started to drift off myself but a memory was assaulting me.

I knew why he did that stroking and holding shit. The _guilt_ for not noticing, for not realising sooner. But how could he have imagined what was going on between Dad and me? And I could never tell him, maybe I believed the sick bastard's lies that he would never believe me or he would blame me and hate me forever. Now with hindsight, I realised it was just his way of making sure I kept silent about what he was doing to me.

I felt stupid now – should have known that my big brother would have been on my side. Because he loved me. Wouldn't think I was a pussy or that I was gay or that I liked it for letting that asshole do it to me.

I was remembering the time with the knife – this memory reared its ugly head before I could stop it. One of the worst times with Dad who'd only finally released me after what felt like hours but probably wasn't.

I pulled my clothes on, even though I was bleeding heavily. From several places in fact.

Was only blood after all.

I sat on my bed, trying to control my breathing and get my body to stop shaking. Nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the door bang and Merle loudly greet our father.

Dad answering him, asking him how work was like nothing had happened. Just like he hadn't been sliding the knife torturously slowly into me and fucking me afterwards a few minutes before. The sick fuck had always been a good actor, I thought bitterly to myself and Merle was so blind.

Fuck him, didn't he _see_?

I heard my brother's heavy steps pounding on the stairs and shortly after, he barged into my room without so much as a knock. I couldn't help cringing back when he stormed in.

I flinched at nothing these days and it seemed like I couldn't do anything to stop it.

He noticed this and frowned. 'What the fuck's wrong with ya, Darlena? Why so jumpy all of sudden?'

I didn't answer just looked down at the bed, traced its swirly pattern with my finger. Wishing he would just go away and leave me alone.

'Hey!' Merle yelled in my face, annoyed with me for not answering him while I cowered back further against the wall. At least he seemed sober – I smelled no alcohol on his breath because he'd just got in from work - that must be why. 'I said what the fuck's wrong with ya, why ya tremblin' and shakin' like a little pussy?'

I still didn't say anything – I was trying to be tough, really I was – to stop my fuckin' body betraying me but it wouldn't listen. I was still in pain deep inside and out but I ignored it. Not least because of the stinging slashes on my back that had only just now stopped bleeding. Maybe I could sneak down and steal one of Dad's drugs later – I knew where he hid them and the bastard never noticed if I just took one or two if there were a lot left.

Suddenly my brother grabbed me roughly by the chin and tilted my head up. I cowered away as he looked closely at my eyes where I could feel the wetness there threatening to fall. He had seen the tears in them that I was holding back!

I wanted the ground to swallow me up if I let them fall in front of my big brother because I would never cry because of a mere whipping with the belt or a few cuts and bruises. I would never hear the end of it now because _Dixons don't cry_.

'What's he done to make ya cry, huh? Must have been somethin' _really_ bad.'

'No! Fuck off, Merle! No I ain't!' I snarled at him, jerking my head away. But Merle finally looked concerned.

'He ain't done nothin' and I ain't fuckin' cryin', ya moron! How many times do I have to tell ya before ya believe me!'' I was almost yelling at him. I didn't want him to know – couldn't bear the shame but at the same time I did. So that it would finally stop.

'He hit ya again? Use the fuckin' belt on ya ?' His voice rose in anger.

'No!' I hissed back. I sneered at him and rolled my eyes to let him know that I wouldn't ever cry over a mere beating or whipping.

'Ya lyin'? Let me see.' He tried to pull up my shirt but I growled at him as I fought him. In the tussle, he shoved me hard and I gave an involuntary gasp of pain as my back slammed into the wall. His eyebrows rose then before he turned me around roughly. I heard him hiss – probably he'd made my cuts start bleeding again and he could see the red stains spreading on the back of my shirt. 'What the fuck...? I heard him whisper in shock at the same time he started to yank up my shirt while I desperately tried to stop him. But he slapped my hands away then and I stopped resisting because I knew that Merle, like Dad, was still stronger than little, puny me. I hated being so weak and unable to fight back. Or stop them doing what they wanted to me. Even so, I could feel him staring at the new cuts – and I could feel the blood now dripping down my back again. Even worse - I couldn't stop the little sissy whimper of pain that escaped my lips when the shirt brushed my black and blue bruises as he pulled it up. Why wasn't he mocking me for showing weakness? I heard him swear under his breath when he turned me round and saw the the black and blue bruises over my kidneys. Afterwards, he carefully checked me all over – front and back.

'Jesus fucked!' followed by 'I'm gonna kill him!' He snarled as he tugged my shirt down again. This time more gently, trying not cause me more pain than he needed to.

'Merle...wait ...don't.' I begged. Now there'd be a fight and all over me. Worse - Dad would punish me for it the next chance he got.

'Don't worry, baby brother. I'm going to sort his out.' He let me go and got off my bed in one smooth movement.

'But Merle...'

'Bastard!' He suddenly shouted, ignoring me and making me recoil. But he wasn't directing it at me.

'Merle!' I heard our father call, sounded worried. He'd heard him yell but probably didn't hear what he'd said. Was pretending not to, anyway. 'Can ya come and help me with somethin', son?'

Bastard was worried that I'd tell him what he'd been doing to me so he'd made up some excuse to call him away. He always got nervous when we were alone together.

Merle didn't bother to answer as he ran out of the room and I could tell that he was furious enough to commit murder as his heavy workboots thumped down the stairs.

'Fuckin' bastard!' I heard him yell at our father. 'What did ya do to him? Ya cut him? And ya been hittin' him again, too, ain't ya? I told ya next time ya did ….' I heard the sounds of a scuffle and blows being exchanged. Raised voices. I didn't dare go downstairs – it seemed that lately they were always arguing over me.

Because this was how my brother reacted when he thought Dad only cut me and hit me? I shivered when I imagined his reaction if he somehow found out about the other things he did to me.

He'd kill him – if he didn't blame me first.

I felt a shiver – but was it fear or _hope_?

'He deserved it – ya don't know what he did...' The evil fuck was trying to think of an excuse but I couldn't hear what lies he came up with. Maybe I didn't _want _to know.

I covered my ears with my hands and curled up into a little ball on my bed. Taking care to lie on my uninjured side while I felt the blood still trickling gently down my back. I prayed it would stop soon.

Shutting out the pain and trying to sleep. At least until I could sneak down stairs and take something for it.

Sometimes thought if I wasn't around anymore the world would be a better place.

Not the for the first time I thought about running away – taking my chances on the streets.

But I couldn't. Because Dixons weren't no cowards and Dixons don't run away.

iii.

Daryl

Another memory raised its ugly head before my mind finally let me sleep. And it was like a movie- video playing right in front of my eyes! And I couldn't do a thing to pause or stop it.

We'd stuck his body in the acid bath, was waiting for his body to dissolve. The first night after Merle shot him – we were anxious to leave but we had to wait. Everytime I went to use the bathroom, I deliberately avoided looking at him. At least the stench of the chemicals masked would have been the rotting odour of his decaying body under normal circumstances.

But this time I clenched my fists and faced him. Was sick of letting him make me still so afraid of him even though he was fucking dead.

'Fuck ya.' I snarled at him. Looking into his eyes – wanting – needing a response. But of course there was none. 'I'm glad he did it.' I spat at him. 'Wished he'd made ya suffer more, ya sick fuck.'

Then I stormed out of the bathroom. Feeling lighter somehow and that was the last time I turned away from him next time I needed to use the bathroom.

_Merle had been outside the bathroom door, had crept up on his brother silently but Daryl didn't know he was there. He secretly smiled to himself at this as he turned and left._

The second night that we were trapped in that house the TV stopped working. No surprise there – it was only Merle who really made sure the bills were paid and sometimes he lapsed with the drinking and getting high and everything. We didn't care now that we were leaving as soon as we'd dealt with Dad's body.

We had nothing to do so I got on my bed. Luckily we had some candles to light when it got too dark to see. I felt exhausted anyway then Merle came in.

'Lookee here, I got some real good stuff. We should celebrate, don't ya think, little brother? 'Cos I we'll be outta here either tomorrow or the day after. Looks like no one called the cops either.'

I looked at the small plastic bag he was holding. He opened it for me to sniff. 'Yeah, smells good. Where did ya get it?'

'From Louie down the road. He got some fine shit delivered – from down South - a little more money than I usually pay but what the hell.'

Merle started rolling the papers and filling them with the stuff from the bag with rolling tobacco. Then he lit one, took a deep drag while he examined my battered face closely. 'Ya still in pain, bro?'

I shrugged. 'A little. Not much, don't matter anyhow.' I lied. Dad's pills helped a little but I was still hurting deep inside. Still bleeding.

'Here's ya one, it'll help.' He handed me the one he'd just rolled.

A few spliffs later and a few beers, we were laughing and giggling like a couple of teenage girls. Rolling about on the bed while Merle told me dirty jokes – mostly about the girls he'd been with. Like nothing had happened and that he hadn't just killed our father and we weren't now dissolving his body in a bath full of acid.

He was relaxed enough to put his arm around me and drag my head to his chest. I was still laughing and he looked pleased to see me smile – I hadn't in a long while. Starting stroking my hair like he'd do nearly everyday from then on. He'd never done this much before – _what the fuck_? I realised that he was different with me since he'd found me with Dad. It's not that he hadn't cared before – I mean he'd always tried to protect me when he was around but most of the time he was out doing his own thing. Or more often than not, when he was at home - he was too drunk and high to care if Dad did it to me right in front of him.

'Ya don't have to worry about him anymore, little Darlena. Fucker's dead.' He said coldly, heartlessly. Like he'd never loved him.

'Thanks, Merle.' I smiled up at him and giggled just as callously. Even though it was _our father _we were talking about.

He ruffled my hair. 'We'll get out of this house and all its bad memories soon, don't ya worry, baby brother. Go someplace new – better – where we can start over. Again. Like none of this shit ever happened.'

I nodded in relief as I started to doze off with his arm around me making me feel safe for the first time in so long and not dreading waking up the next day. My ear was against his chest where I could hear his heartbeat soothing me to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Mira

i.

I woke up when the sun started to light up the sky in the East. I patted myself down and felt myself over. Fumbling for my knife until I felt its reassuring blade. No, Johnnie or whatever his real name was had kept his promise, hadn't messed with me in the night. But it would have been risky with his brother sleeping who was turned towards me, still snoring lightly. '

Merle was already up, boiling water in a pot over the fire.

'Coffee?' He asked. 'We need to take turns – only got one cup between us.

'You have _coffee_? Sure. Thanks.'

He grinned. 'Yeah, amongst other stuff.'

Thought ya said ya had no money?'

'We don't have cash but ya seen the stuff in the car? We got loads of stuff 'donated' by a friend.' He handed me a steaming metal mug of black coffee.

I narrowed my eyes. Knew he was a thief just like me – but we only did it because we were trying to survive. Had no other choice but I told myself I never stole from people. Wasn't sure that Merle could say the same.

'Drink up. I need to make some for sleepyhead over there.' He gestured towards his brother, still fast asleep.

Daryl roused himself, yawning. 'Who ya callin' sleepyhead?' He growled.

'Wake up, little brother.' Johnnie almost sang the words cheerfully. 'We got to make money today 'cos we all need a shower and a decent bed to sleep in.'

'Yeah – how we gonna do that? Sell Andrea's stuff that ya stole? Suppose she's reported us to the cops?'

I turned to stare at Merle. _I knew it_. Guessing who this Andrea was. So it wasn't beneath him to rob from a friend or maybe even his girlfriend?

He smirked at me but turned to glare at his younger brother. 'I told ya to keep ya mouth shut about that.'

'Ya jus' a thievin' asshole! She took us in and fed us for weeks for free, _Merle!'_

Now his brother was glaring at him for a very different reason. Ran at him and pounced on him before Daryl could even react. I thought he was going to hit him and cringed myself. But he didn't do that, he only took him by the shoulders and shook him furiously. 'What did I tell ya, ya stupid little shit! I said no _real names_. Bad enough she knows _ya_ real name!'

'Get the fuck off me, asshole. Who's she gonna tell? Anyway, we told Andrea our real names.'

Merle let go of this brother's shirt. Shoved him angrily.

'Yeah, well that was back before we got smarter.' Then he looked back at me. I shrugged to show that I didn't care. Really, I didn't – weren't none of my business.

'Look- I don't care what ya names are. I ain't gonna tell anyone. I'm kinda on the run myself, incase ya hadn't noticed.'

'Yeah – and ya better not. Cops could be looking for us.' Merle threatened me darkly.

I shrugged. 'Me too. So we're all in the same boat.' I tried to calm things down.

'Right, we need to sell this shit and move on.' He turned to more practical matters. We needed money desperately.

'Where?' Daryl asked.

'Dunno. Ain't go no contacts in this area but maybe I can make some phonecalls... find someone to take the stuff off us for a good price.

'Ya a fuckin' bastard, Merle.' Daryl cursed him, suddenly lashing out. But instead of getting angry, Merle laughed.

'I should hope so too, little brother. Me being a bastard saved ya didn't it?'

What were they talking about? They were so intent on eyeballing each other, it was like they had forgotten I was there! Is that why they were on the road when they didn't look homeless. Looked like they had a home waiting for them somewhere nearby – judging by their accents. Didn't have that look in their eye that we got after a few a weeks on the streets. One that it was impossible to describe but we could recognise it and each other straightaway.

'Ya didn't save me! Ya didn't even fuckin' notice for months – always drunk or stoned out of ya brains. Or out boozin' or screwin'. So stop actin' like a fuckin' hero and usin' it to make me feel guilty and do what ya want all the time!'

'Stop ya squawkin', little Darlena. Ya want everyone to know our business?' Merle didn't get angry like I expected instead there was some other emotion on his face as he glanced meaningfully at me. Was it guilt? And why the hell was he calling Daryl that? It was obviously a putdown but one that sounded teasing and tender at the same time. 'Ya want some coffee, bro?' He took the cup from me.

But Daryl turned his back on him. 'Fuck ya.' He snarled.

_These brothers are weird, very weird. The way they were with each other. Spoke to one another – skirting round some deeply shared but unspoken pain._

_Maybe it was only because I was there and they didn't want me to know. Probably._

But what was clear was the love that they had for each other.

ii.

Daryl

Later Johnnie – no I mean Merle – found a buyer and ordered us to stay in the car while he went into a neglected little house in a shady part of town. I was still fuming with him – I'd feel better when all the stuff that reminded me of Andrea was finally gone.

Some lean black guy who looked like a pimp came out in a pink and white shell suit and dark shades high-fived him, all the gold bling around his neck glinting in the sunshine. I heard Merle say 'Hey, what's up, bro?' just like he knew him.

The guy took the TV, the video-player, the videos, the mircowave and CD and cassette player but we'd have to find another buyer for the books. He refused _them_. But then he got curious after him and Merle had unloaded the boot - looked inside the car where we were trying to be as quiet as possible, not draw attention to ourselves like Merle told us to. Wanted as few people to remember us as possible.

Mira

I heard him say 'She ya bitch, bro or she belong to the boy? It don't matter, maybe we can do a deal. She's hot – me and my homies would sure be interested if ya interested in makin' some extra dough.' Beside me, I heard Daryl growl and clench his fists. 'Dirty fuckin' bastard.' He muttered under his breath and glared balefully through the window but then Merle deliberately stood in front of window, blocking his view.

'Nah, she ain't for sale. Got a special customer for that hot little ho, if ya know what I mean.' I heard him say and wink conspiratorially at him. I started to get worried – for all I knew – Merle did plan to sell me along with the books! But then he deliberately blocked the pimp's view by moving front of the car window even as he laughed dirtily. Apparently sharing a joke with the sleazebag.

Mira why I 'd stayed with Daryl and his brother so long, it wasn't like they were my _family. _No, I'd lost them.

A memory of laughing blue eyes and a wide smile, a tuft of blonde hair flashed before me then but I pushed it away. The grief was to raw in my mind – better stop it in its tracks otherwise I might let the tears fall.

'Fuckin' black scum of the earth.' Merle snarled as he got in the car and slammed the driver's door. 'Don't know how I didn't punch him. - jus' 'cos we need the cash and we don't wanna attract attention. I fuckin' hate niggers – they're dumb as shit and filthy to go with it. Sellin' kids for fuck's sake!' He almost yelled.

Interesting – I was seventeen years old and he still saw me as a 'kid' when most men saw me as a woman. Their eyes irresistably drawn to my breasts, my legs and my hair since I was 12 years old but true - I wasn't looking my best right then. But I'd been no kid when I ran away to live on the streets and after two years being homeless, I definitely wasn't one now. That's what the streets did to you.

But I felt kind of warm inside – the way Daryl and Merle were outraged on my behalf - could it even be that Merle made me feel _safe_?

'Bro – forget it.' Now Daryl was the one trying to calm _him _down.

'Yeah – don't sweat. Forget it.' I added, ignoring the clear racism of Merle's rant. 'I've forgotten it already.'

'Fuck that shit. We can sell the other crap tomorrow. We got enough money now. ' He showed us the open envelope and the wad of dollar bills.

'Let's go get somethin' to eat and look around an' see what this piece of shit town has to offer in the way of somewhere decent to sleep.'

Daryl and I nodded our heads enthusatically because more than food and drink – I longed to wash myself – buy some shampoo and shower gel and scrub my body. Wash my filthy clothes and change into my clean ones.

Right then, the thought of a hot shower was heaven!

iii.

Mira

I took one bed, Merle and Daryl shared the other. We'd debated about getting separate rooms for them and me but in the end, I decided to save our money. So we shared a twin room, luckily the beds were pretty big. Of course, Merle didn't forget to remind me of my side of the bargain becaue the money he made today wouldn't last long with the three of us.

I didn't worry about that now because anyway, I was feeling more at ease with them since Daryl had inadvertently revealed his brother's name. But I kept my name a secret- didn't want anyone to know.

I fell into a comfortable, dreamless sleep, clean at last after the blissful shower. It felt like heaven to finally wash away the layers of grime and dirt – the water was black at first when it swirled down the drain. The brothers had courteously let me go first 'Ladies first' Merle had grinned mockingly at me and I didn't protest. I'd locked the door _and _put a chair under the handle out of long way I felt safer. But no-one disturbed me.

I woke up dozily to hear a noise. You learnt to sleep lightly out on the streets for your own protection. It was shocked to realise that it was Daryl whimpering in his sleep. Merle was awake – did he wake him up too? But he turned his back to him, hoping he would stop if he ignored it, I knew. Done it enough times myself when we'd slept on the streets or under a bridge, in the subway and someone started crying in their sleep.

'_Jesus Fuck!' _He muttered irritably to himself under his breath. 'Thought he'd stopped doin' that shit.'

'Don't.' Daryl moaned and started flailing around. 'No! Daddy, don't!' He pleaded pathetically, getting louder as he kept tossing and turning until one arm hit his brother's back.

'_Fuckin' hell_,_ baby brother!' _ Merle turned round and hissed at him but he still didn't wake up.

'No! I won't! Don't make me! Fuck off, Dad!' Daryl was getting frantic now, even in his sleep. Still hadn't woken himself up.

'Hush, hush now. Come here.' Merle hissed and hitched him none too gently to him. So that his little brother's head was resting on his chest. His hand hovering over his head, fluttering hesitantly until Daryl made a sound like a sob deep in his throat and Merle started stroking his hair. 'I got ya, I got ya. He's gone, he's fuckin' dead and he can't hurt ya no more.' He crooned in his ear. 'It's over. So how about quitting this shit, huh?' Daryl gave one last whimper like he'd heard him and quietened down, then, curling into his older brother. Merle must have sensed that I was awake and listening even in the darkness because suddenly I could feel him directly staring at me. 'Ya awake? Ya enjoyin' the freak show, huh?' He asked me fiercely in a low voice as he pulled his brother closer to him at the same time, still running his hand through his hair.

I didn't answer him, just turned over. Tried to do it slowly like I was turning in my sleep. Somehow I thought that it would be safer but I knew that it was going to be difficult to fall back asleep again, partly because of my scars - they were burning and itching now– especially the ones on my forearms. Neither did Merle – I heard him whispering softly and soothingly to his brother but I couldn't hear what he was saying as I rubbed my them, until I heard Daryl's regular breathing as he finally fell into a calm, dreamless sleep. I knew without looking that Merle carried on stroking him for a very long time. Maybe all night even. At the same time, I knew I was too wound up to sleep – after hearing all this. I'd already taken the maximum dose of valium and I knew from experience, that if I took any more, I might not wake up for two days. Had happened before.

Nothing for it but just try to sleep.

I must have dozed off after all because I came to when it got light and I heard stirring. I turned round to see that Daryl hadn't moved and that he was still safely in his brother's arms.

'What the fuck ya lookin' at?' Merle hissed and glared at me even while Daryl's eyes began to flutter open at the sound and he didn't seem to know where he was at first and looked surprised. _God, I thought, that boy is so cute. Especially when his hair is all tousled and he's all disorientated when he wakes up. Did he see me that way? Didn't seem to barely notice me at all. _I was thinking these thoughts even as I shrugged and lowered my eyes. Understood that I had seen something intimate that I had no business seeing. Had heard secrets I had no business hearing. Next I heard Daryl start to struggle to free himself from his brother when he saw me and his face flushed red in embarrassment. When he hadn't minded me seeing Merle show him affection round the campfire. 'What ya doin' Merle? Get the fuck off me, what are ya, a fuckin' fag?'' He snarled as he ordered his brother to let him go who I saw grin at this and release him, almost reluctantly. _My heart nearly skipped a beat. Maybe I liked tough, badass Daryl even more than cute, disorientated and vulnerable Daryl but it was hard to choose between the two._

I rubbed my eyes, they felt gritty like there was sand in them. I knew what had happened to Daryl. To think that Merle would do it to me – as if. Explained why his brother was like that with him – most streetkids had run away because of similar stories. Why they'd rather take their chances out on the streets that adults said were so dangerous rather than live at home. I had a feeling that he could have been one of us easily if it hadn't been for his brother.

iv.

Daryl

I woke up to find Merle with his arms around me like we were a couple of fags in front of _her_. Worse – I looked fuckin' _weak. _We must have slept like that – he'd put his arms around me sometime in the middle of the night. I wouldn't have cared if we'd been alone because nobody else knew how he was with me when it was just us two or how I needed him. They could never understand even if they tried. Now - don't get me wrong, I didn't have anything against homosexuals personally but I knew that I wasn't one and I didn't want them getting the wrong idea about me and coming onto me. Maybe the stuff Dad had said about him marking me had something to do with it as well. But why the hell was my brother still doing that? Because I was OK now, hadn't had any bad dreams about Dad for weeks. Why was I so worried about _what she thought_? I knew my brother could be a real pushy, sleazy asshole when it came to women, I didn't want him to come onto our hitchhiker. So much so sometimes that I was embarrassed to be related to him – were we really brothers? 'Cos he was always thinking about his next lay – he really lived by his dick. Strangely, a lot of girls seemed to dig my brother but I could never understand why. But at least he'd left Trina alone but thenshe was _my age_. Guess that even my big brother wouldn't sink that low.

I hoped.

I made him let me go, couldn't help lashing out at him because I felt embarrassed while Trina watched me out of the corner of her eye. I could swear she was laughing at me. And I never wanted to be laughed at by a _girl_.

'What's so funny?' I asked, frowning at her.

'Nothing.' She looked down and hid her grin behind her hands because she was shy like me. I noticed that her hair was dark blonde not the dirty brown colour I thought it was now that she'd had a chance to wash it. She looked better especially as she'd changed the clothes she'd been wearing for another long-sleeved sweater and long skirt – dark blue this time.

I'd never kissed a girl before, I'd never let them. None of the slutty, underdressed skanks who'd come onto me in our school had ever been good enough for me, I'd been holding out for someone special. Wasn't going to be like my brother who screwed anything in a skirt that moved.

I really was sweet sixteen.

If you didn't count Dad of course.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**As Merle and Mira drag Daryl further into crime, will they be caught one day? I mean, why doesn't Merle just find somewhere to settle down where they can pick up casual work? Or why don't they go home where they live in a house that's been bought and paid for ? Although, probably neither of them can live with the bad memories there. **

**Apparently nobody has filed a missing person's report on Daddy Dixon, nobody's noticed or maybe they just don't care. But has nobody noticed that Daryl is missing from school? Granted, he's missed school before so maybe they're used to it. It's the 1980's and instant communication and forsenics aren't what they are today. Moreover, people where Daryl and Merle are from don't volunteer information easily to the police. They keep each other's secrets basically.**

**Mira's feelings are growing for Daryl but does he feel the same? What's her story anyway and why does she have scars too all over her body?**

i.

Mira

Merle glanced over at me after he released his brother. Daryl went straight to the bathroom.

'Now, girl. We need more money if ya want to stick with us. I'm pretty sure that you don't want to be sharing with us. How long ya been homeless, if ya don't mind me askin'?'

'Two years.' I didn't say that I'd got used to a lot worse living conditions. That having my own bed and a hot shower was like paradise to me in comparison, even if I had to share with two guys.

'What did ya do for money, Trina?'

'Well, I didn't do _that_.' I knew what he was thinking. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'Sometimes I stole it from stores. Sometimes I earned it.' I pushed down the familiar feeling of shame that came over me.

'How many times did ya shoplift?' He narrowed his eyes, kept on interrogating me.

I shrugged my shoulders. 'Loads of times.'

'Ever get caught?'

'Been close a few times.' I admitted and he shot me a sharp look. 'But no, never.'

'How do ya do it?'

'Worked in a gang ...with my … b...boyfriend.' I stammered on the last word, the grief was still raw. But he didn't notice or he was pretending not to, I didn't know which. Anyway, I didn't want to have to explain. Didn't want to talk about Ryan.

He raised his eyebrows but didn't pry.

We planned together about hitting the next store – the smaller ones didn't have cameras. We'd just finalised our plan when I heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water because Daryl always left the tap running while he went. He was shy. Shortly after this, he came out of the bathroom, tousling his hair with a towel but fully dressed otherwise. It was difficult sharing the family sized room because we weren't a family – didn't know each other that well.

More time had passed than I thought.

_He looked so cute! _I tried to surpress my feelings, after all I hadn't lost Ryan more than a few weeks ago.

'What?' He looked between us questioningly.

'Just plannin' our next move, bro.' Merle answered him.

'Now, if ya don't mind, ' He looked at me and I shrugged, 'I think it's my turn to use the bathroom.' He took his clothes with him.

'What you guys talking about?' Daryl's eyes bored mercilessly into mine as soon as Merle left.

'How to get more money.'

Daryl didn't answer me but snorted then bellowed at his brother in the bathroom. The shower hadn't started running yet. 'Ya ain't plannin' on robbin' no one else, are ya Merle?'

His brother didn't answer.

'Ya better not be!' He yelled towards the shower, answering his own question. 'How about we all go and find jobs like _normal people_?'

Merle's guffaw was muffled by the sound of water starting to run but we still heard it and I sensed Dary was about to unleash his fury on him. He was obviously still upset about this Andrea.

I tried to distract him. After all, this was like the first time he'd spoken to me properly since we met.

'So...how come, you and your brother are so close?'

He turned to glare at me and despite myself, I drew back. Tried to backpaddle.

'I mean, he obviously loves ya.' I was thinking about how affectionate Merle was with him, not to mention the way he was with him last night when he had a nightmare.

'Who says we're close?' He clenched his fists and I kicked myself for always saying the wrong thing.

So I decided to stop digging myself a hole and shut up.

A few awkward moments passed. I tried to fix things between us.

'I mean – I didn't get on with my older brother, he was kind of a dick.' I offered in the way of explanation.

'Oh.' He stared at the floor.

'But I still miss him.' I added.

Another few awkward moments passed with neither of us saying anything. Until he smirked at me before he said loudly, 'Well, Merle is kind of a dick too, in case you hadn't noticed.' He grinned at the outraged noises his older brother made from the shower. 'I heard that! Ya better hide now, _baby brother_ 'cos I'm gonna kill ya when I come out!' He yelled.

Daryl didn't seem to care, chuckled instead. I followed suit and this seemed to relieve some of the tension in the room.

Merle stormed out after about 10 minutes, fully clothed probably because I was there. Grabbed his younger brother and wrestled him to the bed. Tickled his stomach and ruffled his hair until he begged for mercy. 'Ya better show me some respect, little Darlena!' He teased before he let him go.

ii.

Mira

We were driving along, checking out the local stores on the high street. We made sure to choose a chain – we didn't want to steal from actual people.

So we told ourselves, like I'd always told myself, in fact. To justify stealing. But we were running out of cash – only enough for another two nights, not including food, drink and smokes.

Daryl had his arms crossed, was scowling and slumping low in his seat. 'Merle.' He tried. 'I don't fuckin' wanna do this...'

'You'd rather go hungry or sleep on the streets, Daryl?'

'No... but...'

'Well, shut the fuck up, then.' His brother cut him off.

'I still don't agree with it...'

But we'd reached our destination, the store that was a chain but small enough probably not to have a camera. This was the early 1980's after all and not everybody could afford such high technology.

'Now, Trina, ya know what ya gotta do.' Merle turned to me.

'Sure. Done it loads of times.' Daryl turned to stare at me in surprise and I felt a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Under his _judgement_.

'And you too, Daryl.'

'Yeah!' He snarled grumpily and tuned his face away.

'Good, then. We all set?'

'Yes.' We answered at the same time, turning around to look at one another in surprise.

'Good. 'Cos last thing we want is to get caught by the cops, right?'

We nodded.

iii.

Daryl

I didn't want to go along with their plan, I mean why couldn't we settle down somewhere and find honest work? I mean I'd left school without graduating but that didn't matter. I could still do work – stuff like barwork or farmwork.

Why did we have to _steal_?

Mira

I followed them in, preparing myself for when we got in there. I was right, as I surreptitiously checked the ceiling and walls, place was too small and too poor to afford a video camera. Only two assistants on duty, maybe one manager in the back but probably not.

I hoped.

I wandered along the aisles, pretended to be fascinated by the canned vegetables selection. Even picked up one or two cans like I was weighing them in my hands, comparing them. I felt the assistants eyes on me – it was 11pm one a weekday night in a small place and luckily there weren't any other customers.

At least I didn't look and smell like a homeless bum any more and it looked like I had chosen right and we were in luck.

Merle trailed behind me while Daryl moved closer to the cash tills. Just like I'd told them to do.

I picked up some jars of tomato pasta sauce, showed Merle the labels when I suddenly swooned.

My limbs jerked as I fell to the floor and the whites rolled up in my eyes.

The older Dixon caught me and lowered me to the floor while the two assistants ran over. They were both men. Good old protective male instinct - worked most times I thought slyly to myself as my body apparently fitted. Merle cradled my head and yelled 'She's diabetic! Get us some help!'

'I think there's a first aid kit in the staff rest area.' The older man with grey hair and a slim build volunteered.

'I'll go and call an ambulance.' The younger brown-haired man in his twenties offered.

I continued to be oblivious to it all as my body jerked.

Daryl

I made my way casually around to the cash tills when she gave me the signal. Before she started faking a diabetic fit and the cashier who was on duty rushed over to help her. Took a deep breath thinking how much I hated doing this. _Good_. They were the old-fashioned type – no staff code needed, I thought as I dipped my hands into them. Concentrating on picking the 50 dollar bills, the 20's and 10's, leaving the rest, then making my way as quickly as I could out of the shop. To wait for them in our getaway car parked unconspicuously down an alleyway. Ready to go as soon as they showed up.

I opened the car and slipped into the front seat. Cradling the bag of cash I'd stolen.

Feeling like a shit the whole time.

Mira

The younger shop assistant checked me over. 'Wait, I have first aid training – I should check her pulse.'

Merle played along, nodded but then he didn't know.

The guy rolled up my long sleeves with theirGothic looking lace frills that covered my wrists, to my elbows before I could stop him and I heard him gasp. All my clothes had long sleeves and covered my legs – even in summer. However, I didn't hear or sense Merle react.

Then I felt him feel my pulse before I chose this moment to 'recover'. Guessing that Daryl had enough time to grab the money and get out of there. Luckily, still no sign of the manager or the other assistant who'd gone out back to find a first aid kit.

My eyes fluttered open as I languidly moved my limbs. Tried to weakly get up and lean back on my elbows. Merle waved the other man and helped me to my feet. I found myself leaning on him as I swayed in his arms.

'Thanks but it's not so bad as we thought.' He explained as he roughly started to drag me out. Just then the older man came out with the first aid kit. They didn't question how I could recover from a diabetic coma – to my understanding, once that happened to you, you could only recover with hospital treatment. Their medical naivete came in handy for our deception.

'I'll take her now. She needs sugar and we got some in the car...'

They looked after us bemused as we left the store. No sign of Daryl – I saw Merle checking for him.

'Good boy.' I heard him mumble under his breath.

We whooped and punched the air when we reached the car and Daryl waved the full to bursting with money wallet at us from the driver's side. Merle had looked inside, checking his brother was in there, safe and sound. We high-fived each other, all the time expecting to hear cop sirens or the shop workers come running after us, screaming accusations.

'Get in!' Merle ordered looking around after we'd calmed down from our triumph.

'Go!' He ordered Daryl to drive.

Back at the motel, we celebrated but Daryl didn't look happy. He almost killed the mood. Was scowling in fact. 'I don't want to _steal _no more, Merle. What if we get caught...especially after what we done?' Panic was growing in his voice and Merle shot him a hard glance in reply without answering. Warning him not to reveal some closely-guarded secret.

I pushed my curiousity aside as we drank and smoked, ate chips and fast food until we felt like we were going to burst.

All in all, we had made over 800 dollars.

Daryl was the first to fall asleep and Merle pinned me down with his eyes across his brother's body while I fidgeted uncomfortably under his penetrating stare.

'What's ya story, girl? Why ya run away?' He didn't mention the scars he must have seen all over my wrists and forearms but he stared at my sleeves.

'Sorry, don't want to sound rude but like I told ya before, ain't none of ya business.'

Merle shrugged instead of getting angry like I expected. As a peculiar feeling of deja vu washed over me. We'd shoplifted together, travelled hundreds of miles across state borders together but still I knew next to nothing about the Dixons and they me. Only that something bad had happened to Daryl and that they were running away from something big and dark.

'I saw ya arms, girl. Someone do that to ya, honey?' He was caressing me with his syrupy voice but I resisted opening up. Shrugged like I didn't care even though my heart was racing. 'Don't want to talk about it.'

'Fair enough. But I bet there's loads more marks on the rest of you, huh, sweetie? Is that why ya ran away from home?'

'Fuck off.' I grew defensive when anyone talked about my scars and because he'd almost hit the bull's eye when it came to the truth. Almost yet far too close. Yes, he was right, my whole body was covered with them.

He ignored this. 'Let me show ya somethin'. Guess ya heard him last night, huh though I knew ya were pretendin' to be asleep.' I nodded, no point denying it.

We were whispering but even so, I grew alarmed. What if Daryl woke up and found us

talking about him? I knew how proud he was and how he guarded his privacy.

Merle lifted up Daryl's T-shirt gently so as not to wake him up. I needn't have worried, he didn't even stir.

Now it was my turn to gasp. Hardly a bare inch of Daryl's back wasn't covered by scars – raised pinkish and white damaged skin tissue, thinner marks crossing each other at the top of his back. Other, round marks marred his skin in other places.

'See? Our fuckin' Daddy did that to him.' Merle whispered as he gently tugged down his brother's T-shirt. Then he soothed back his little brother's hair comfortingly. Daryl did move then – instinctively closer to his brother then but still didn't open his eyes.

'How?' I whispered.

'With his fuckin' belt mostly, amongst other things.'

I shuddered – couldn't help it as I turned away. Didn't want to tell him the truth about my scars all over my body as I secretly fingered the handle of my knife to reassure me.

He'd be disgusted, I knew.

'He's sleepin' peacefully now.' Merle sighed and added. Then his voice grew hard suddenly. 'Ya better not hurt him. 'Cos girl or not, I'll kick ya ass.'

I looked at him in bewilderment, not understanding him.

'What? I don't know what ya think is goin' on between me and him, he doesn't even _like _me. 'Sides, I'm sure Daryl can take care of himself.'

Merle sniggered knowingly and I wanted to wipe that smug look right off his face because he thought he knew everything about me and his brother.

'I mean – who says I'm gonna keep on hanging around with you guys anyway? Who says I'm not gonna jus' take my share of the cash and ditch you tomorrow?'

He still smirked in that infuriatingly smug way of his. Like he knew I wouldn't.

And he was right.

iv.

Mira

No matter how much I hated to admit it because I was still with them three days later. We kept moving from place to place, motel to motel, this time getting separate rooms – one for me and one for the brothers. Gradually over time, Daryl started to warm to me and stopped snapping at his brother although I could tell that he hated what we were doing. Kept asking Merle when would we have enough money, where were we going next?

We were going to hit our third store and I took a chance. Merle was driving, staring ahead and I knew that he wasn't paying attention. We were sitting both on opposite sides of the backseat with a space between us when I reached out to touch Daryl's hand. It felt like a bolt of electricity sprung from it as he let me curl my fingers around his.

Daryl

_'Ya nothin. Only good for this. All I need ya for is ya sweet, little mouth and ya tight little asshole. Maybe I should cut ya's off – not like ya need it...maybe I will …'_

I tired to shake Dad's voice out of my head and in my confusion, I drew my hand sharply away from hers and she looked a little hurt.

'Sorry.' I muttered, not daring to look at her. 'Jus' don't like bein' touched much, is all.'

'That's OK. I only meant it as friends.'

Mira

'Friends?' He looked at me with such shy, sweet hope in his eyes that I forgot my hurt and instead, felt myself falling deeper and deeper for him.

Did he feel the same way?


End file.
